Scientia Potentia Est
by HallowHandses
Summary: Life and Fate have a certain way of making Harry's life infinitely worse for him. Between the Dursleys and his crippling isolation, he thinks the Wizarding World offers salvation for him. How foolhardy. It instead, pushes him to his limits. That raises the question, how long will it take till he's thrown over the edge? This is an Abused!Harry Dark-ish!Harry story
1. A Train and People

A/N: I'd like to say, read up to the tenth or eleventh chapter. Things start to get better, especially the writing from there. As for the new viewers, I'm currently revising the old chapters so there _might_ be a few discrepancies.

 **Update: I'm taking a break.**

* * *

It was Loneliness, an old friend of his, that came knocking on the door in his mind. He had barred that door, the thing inside him banging against the cage that he had set up. Harry sighed, wanting to drown out the muffled goodbyes of the people outside. He felt a lance pierce his heart before a short blip of joy flitted across his face. He took out his wand, relishing the fresh taste that he 'felt' as he wielded the only source of freedom in his hands.

He closed his eyes and let the magic flow from his hands into the wand, opening something much like a conduit, releasing a valve. He wove the magic into a ward that covered the room, a ward that would be immediately dispelled the moment someone opened the door. And that likely wasn't going to happen. After, who'd know that the famous Harry Fucking Potter was on the train?

Harry sighed, shivers going up his spine as he finished the wand, shutting the conduit, the valve. That was always a pleasurable experience, finishing a ward. The stick of wood, hair, and feathers was the thing that offered him an escape from the vile closet that he stayed in. His warm, silky clothes were a stark contrast from the clothes filled dried piss. The smell of cookies and a warm, homely kitchen being a welcome difference from the stench of shit and the Dursleys'. Harry shuddered at the mere thought of them, feeling a sledgehammer banging against his mind, the glass cracking. That was when he let the memories come in a flooding torrent, seeping out of the floodgates that he'd set up.

Harry sighed and sat in the comfortable train seat, letting the memory wash over him.

A Memory

The wand was the last thing on the list. He had been able to rid himself of Hagrid's presence and though Hagrid was quite intriguing, the things that Harry wanted to know couldn't be found with the half-giant. He spoke a lot and was completely unable to keep a secret while he also seemed to have a penchant for creatures. Perhaps could be useful when fighting a dragon. Who knows? With everything else in tow, he made his way towards _Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands,_ or at least that was what he thought the sign said. He had imagined that the shop would be more impressive, being a key component of society. But it wasn't. It was a rather drab building, slanting rather comically. The paint was peeling off while there were visible cracks in the walls. And yet, it still stood. Perhaps because of magic.

Hedwig hooted indignantly at the way that the cart bumped along the cobblestone path, but there wasn't much that could be done about that. Harry entered the shabby shop, coughing as he quickly discovered that there was a _lot_ of wood dust in the air. Casting his gaze across the shop, he saw rows and rows of boxes filled to the brim with wands of all sizes and shapes. There were rather exquisite wands as well as rather plain looking ones. In one box, there were pieces of wands, something that caused Harry to instinctively shudder in fear. He could feel the magic dying.

"Ah, Mister Potter," a soft voice came from the shelves that lay behind the counter. Out walked a kindly man who Harry assumed to be Ollivander. Somehow, Harry knew the man had an obsession with wands. He was wary of the way that the man suddenly started listing wands. The Wizard, not man, seemed senile, distanced from reality.

Harry sighed, Ollivander visibly reacting to the soft interruption.

"I'm sorry if I bother a celebrity such as you, Mister Potter," Ollivander said, his voice incredulous. It was obvious that Harry had somehow managed to offend the wandmaker. Immediately and instinctively, he attempted to console the Wizard, not man.

"Ollivander, sir," Harry asked as the Wizard glared at him, "I didn't mean anything. It's just that my…guardians would be a bit annoyed if I came back to, well, my home rather late."

"I'm sure, Mister Potter, that you won't spend far too much time here," Ollivander said, his eyes narrowed. "Would you prefer a premade wand or custom one?"

"Custom," Harry immediately said. That was what seemed like the best choice.

Ollivander nodded and swiftly moved to a shelf, taking out a series of boxes. "In order to make this process extremely quick, I'll ask you to wave your hand over these and tell me which one seems to respond." He didn't open the boxes, laying them out in a grid on the counter.

Harry mentally shrugged and waved his hands, feeling two boxes seem to hum with this warm current of energy. It was like when he was cooking, some sense of satisfaction filling him. He pointed to one.

"Ah, a phoenix feather. I'd say that this is a rather uncommon core, but not far too uncommon," Ollivander moved to take the boxes away when Harry interrupted him.

"Sir?" He asked, "There was another one that responded."

"Another one? What? I think that you're lying." Ollivander responded immediately, his eyes giving him away, holding a spark of curiosity as if Harry were simply proving him wrong.

Harry shook his head. "I'm not, Mr. Ollivander." He pointed to the other one, remembering it by the odd notch in the mahogany cover. "That was the other one that responded."

"A thestral hair?" Ollivander seemed to query. Harry nodded. "No, I wasn't talking to you, Mister Potter," the Wizard seemed to spit halfheartedly.

The Wizard stood there in the same position for a bit, the two boxes in his hand when he suddenly moved, muttering, "I'll have to get a move on." He set the two boxes aside and put the others away. He brought out a set of slimmer boxes. "Do the same thing, if you please."

Harry nodded and waved his hands mere centimeters from the covers, feeling only one box seem to sing this time. He pointed to it and said, "That one."

"Ebony," Ollivander muttered and then raised his voice. "I think that you can do some rather…peculiar things with this wand. I also believe that I'll have a wonderful time making this."

He then quickly moved into the labyrinth of shelves that resided behind the counter. Harry decided to simply sit down, take a short nap. But no, something had other plans.

Not even five minutes after settling down, Harry felt a surge of magic, almost like a wave. And the odd thing was that he felt himself responding, like those call and respond songs he heard about. His entire body seemed to sing, filled to the brim with an energy that he couldn't begin to describe. All that could be said about it was that the feeling was absolutely heavenly, much like floating on clouds.

He felt something clawing at his heart, as if there was this hunger in his soul. He felt like a man in the desert, looking desperately for water. Moments later, Ollivander came out of the depths of his workshop.

"I would like to say, before giving you this wand, that this was rather…unexpected of anyone actually. I do hope that you'll do something wondrous with that wand," Ollivander admitted. "Hopefully you won't waste it's abilities." He sighed. "That'll be seven Galleons."

Harry dug into his bag and took out seven cold gold coins. The wandmaker snatched the coins out of Harry's hand, replacing them with a long, twisting wand. It was odd, seeing to make Harry's mind drown in euphoria. It was as if he'd been made whole. He felt as if he'd just gained a new skill, as if he'd become something different. He felt like Cinderella, getting the Prince, not that he wanted a Prince.

He said his thanks and ran off, not wanting his Uncle to get mad. There'd be terrible consequences.

-End of the Memory—

Harry felt himself being jerked from the memory by the opening of the door. There were two girls, one blonde haired another brown haired. The blonde had this allure about her, causing Harry to suddenly feel hot. But with his 'training,' he kept himself from showing anything.

"What d'you want?" Harry found himself asking in a soft somewhat accusing tone. He mentally bashed himself. What the absolute hell was going on with him?

"What do _we_ want?" The blonde asked. "Oh, we just opened a door to a carriage that is mostly empty? What do you…"

The brunette's eyes widened, nudging her friend, causing the blonde's voice trailed off. "You're Harry Potter."

"I am?" Harry asked, putting the book next to him and started touching himself. He ran his fingers throught his hair, feeling his chest, letting an expression of surprise grow on his face. Why the absolute hell did he _have_ to be this famous celebrity? "Dear God, I _am._ Well, I'll ask again, why are you here and who are you?"

The blonde gave him a steady stare instead, seeming glare at him. An odd reaction. The brunette, on the other hand, was silent for a bit before realizing that her friend wasn't going to say a thing.

She then said, "We just want to sit here. I'm Tracey Davis," she pointed at herself, "and she's Daphne," and she pointed at her friend.

"Well, it's nice to meet you two," Harry said, coming up to them and stretching his hand out. Tracey immediately shook his hand, Daphne doing so only after she saw her friend do it. "Yeah, I'm guessing that the carriages are all full?"

Tracey nodded. Her friend still said nothing.

"Then go ahead, I don't really care." Harry said as he smiled, the lie passing through his teeth. He turned, sat down, and opened his book. "I'm starting to think that I have this large neon sign on my forehead," He then muttered, knowing that they could hear.

"Neon sign?" Daphne asked, causing him to look up from his book. They were sitting next to each other on the opposite side of the carriage. "What's that?"

"You don't know what a neon sign is?" Harry asked, an incredulous tone creeping into his voice. How could anyone not know what a neon sign is? "It's this thing that Muggles use to advertise their stuff. It's actually-"

"Muggles," Daphne muttered with distaste. "Great! Harry Potter's been influenced by Muggles."

"And what's wrong about that?" Harry challenged, snapping his book shut. He couldn't stand people like this.

"Everything," Daphne said. Tracey looked uncomfortable, but something, someone, was telling him that this was a repeated conversation between the two.

Harry scoffed. "Everything? Look around you! This train was based on Muggle inventions! Don't put those down who're giving you ideas."

"Shut up," Daphne said, taking her wand out. "I _will_ hex you, even if you are Harry Potter."

"Oh, and I defeated _Voldemort_ ," Harry uttered, remembering Hagrid's distaste of the name. Perhaps it was something ingrained into her mind. After all, the war was still fairly recent. He took his wand out, just in case it didn't work.

But instead of answering, Harry found a spell flying at him. Quickly he uttered the first spell that had come to mind. It was a spell that he'd practiced with a pencil, having thought that it was useful. He knew other spells, but they were rather basic in nature and took him only a good thirty minutes each to learn. Though that didn't justify the fact that he could cast them on the first try with a wand in hand. Could he have an aptitude for it?

" _Protego_!" He intoned, stopping the red bolt of magic dead in its tracks. It was an invisible shield that caused the spell to suddenly fizzle out of existence.

The two Witches looked at him in shock. Tracey then asked, "How did you _do_ that?"

The moment that she asked that, the door burst open, causing Harry to quickly put his wand down. Apparently, the Protego was something that would be sustained as long as the user 'added' magic to the spell. The shield was dispelled, making it seem as if the girls were staring at him for no particular reason. Brilliant.

A dark-skinned boy came through the door. Having hawk like facial features, he looked at the scene in front of him with those eyes that were so _alive_.

"Greengrass. Tracey," He greeted. "What's your name?"

"Harold," Harry immediately responded. Better for no one else to know. It didn't seem like the other girls would say anything.

"Well, Harold, can I sit here?"

Harry nodded. "Sure. I guess that you know these two girls." A statement not a question.

"Obviously," the boy said, using his hands to ask if he could sit next to Harry. When the latter didn't move, the boy sat across of Harry. "I'm Zabini. Blaise Zabini."

Harry shook Zabini's outstretched hand. "If I may ask, why were they staring at you? I mean, I know that they both have a thing for boys, not me though, but I would personally like to think that they'd be a bit more…discreet."

Harry shrugged. "Who knows? I just managed to get out of the way of a spell Daphne had cast." He had this coy smirk on his face, knowing full well that Greengrass didn't like that. Oh well, what was he going to do?

"Shut it, Har-old," Greengrass said through gritted teeth. "It was only luck."

"You want to bet?" Harry challenged, momentarily forgetting Zabini.

Greengrass rose her wand. "Sure."

Blaise coughed, a hand coming up to hide the smirk on his face. There was something off about this kid, but there'd be a brilliant show to watch, him and Greengrass. A perfect match, albeit a violent one. He looked on in interest, the train starting to move.


	2. The Great Harry Potter is Sorted

A/N: Know that I'm still learning where and when to vividly describe (still an amateur with a few ideas as to where this story may go). Once again, constructive criticism, if any, and as a pubescent child, don't sue me. I don't own anything other than the clothes on my bac-actually, I don't even own that as my parents bought everything. Chapters may get longer and this will be updated consistently until the day that I decide otherwise. I can't make my mind up.

* * *

The Hogwarts Express slowed down to a halt. There had been a boy by the name of Malfoy that visited the compartment. The boy was a piece of work. He, _it,_ was quite prejudiced, proud, and annoying like his cousin. There was nothing that could be done to save people like him because they were beyond help. These people are bullies, He had sneered and scowled, asking why purebloods were mingling with a half-blood, the latter being Harry Potter. The reaction was immediate.

-Earlier-

"Get out of this compartment Malfoy!" Tracey practically shouted, oddly offended. "What we do is none of your business."

"But it's my father's," Malfoy had said, obviously irritating the people in the compartment.

This response had led to an immediate _Petrificus Totalus,_ something that caused everyone to turn to the caster, Harry. But he didn't pay any attention to them, immediately going back to reading one of the books he had been able to bring along.

Feeling eyes on him, he asked, "What?"

"You just did that and your simply ask 'what?'" Zabini asked, completely disbelieving the boy's nonchalance about the entire situation.

"It's a nonlethal spell and it should wear off soon. He seemed like an outright bastard, and an annoyance, so you're welcome. If you want, you and I can throw him into a compartment. Unless, you want to leave him there."

"But…"

"Yes, yes. It's something that we're going to learn nearly mid-way into our first year. If it comforts you, I still haven't been able to get ahold of _Incendio_ for some reason."

"You know Potter," Daphne said with trace of mirth in her voice as she thought of his proposal, slightly warming up to him, "that is certainly a good idea."

-Present-

Something, or someone, had taken the baggage out of the Express. But as the older students weren't concerned, Harry didn't find any reason not to. The students started to file out of the Hogwarts Express. This was the first time that Harry had truly paid attention to the train, wanting to immediately get into a compartment.

It was seemed like one of those trains fueled by coal or one that relied on steam, but considering the fact that this was a magical train, it must be fueled by magic. Perhaps there was a professor on the train. It was an elaborate work of art, the carriages being connected seamlessly so that its passengers never noticed the gaps. They seemed to be supported by magic, the temperature being something that _must_ have been controlled by magic as well.

Stepping out, Harry fell into the sea of random faces, noticing the towering seventh years and other wizards his age. He, following the crowd, glanced at the forest around them. Perhaps he could explore it during on of these weekends, acquaint himself with the area.

Eventually, he reached a massive iron gate where all of the baggage lay. A small, goblin-like person held a quill and parchment andutteres incomprehensible to himself as students passed by, the quill moving furiously up and down. Perhaps he was taking the attendance of everyone. It certainly seemed like it. Suddenly a voice filled the area as Harry approached a massive lake.

"Firs' years over here," Hagrid had bellowed in a voice that seemed to shake the earth. Behind him were old wooden boats floating on a glassy lake. Motioning towards them (this being the boats), he then said, "'Urry up! We're nearly late!"

And from the half-giant's prompt, Harry stepped in the boat where Daphne, Tracey, and Blaise was, carefully avoiding contact with the others in the boat. From the older years, he had learned that these boats took them through the lake and to the castle, Hogwarts. But that had left him unprepared for the view. The castle/school towered over the surrounding landscape, a plateau filled with lush vegetation and with numerous animals. The glassy lake contrasted with the uneven land and the commanding presence that the castle had. There were battalions, 'Probably from the early 11th century," there were large arched windows and various stables and hills rolling off the sides of the elevated building. To say that it was amazing could be considered an insult to the castle itself.

The boats pulled up to the castle as a full moon peeked through the grey clouds that littered the sky. Large, oaken doors swung open as the students approached opening to a labyrinth of hallways and passages.

When the group reached another set of massive doors that swung open, Hagrid said in a voice that could have woken a sleeping giant, "The firs' years Profess'r McGon'gell."

"Right on time Hagrid," an old lady said quite curtly, rushing towards them. "Now, now, come on up here."

There were four columns of tables where people wearing certain colours sat. 'God,' thought Harry, mentally groaning. 'They still support the house system that History book talked about? That's a perfect way to fuck with our minds.'

The group walked towards the front of the Hall, carefully making their way through the forest of candles that floated above the tables, and stopped at the steps of the teacher's platform with a raggedy hat sitting on a stool. Slowly, Professor McGonagall (was it?) started to call names. It was quite curious to see the hat condemn a person. The only thing that Harry could think of wasn't the house he would be sorted into, but the sentience of the hat. Obviously, the hat needed to have been enchanted, but could magic have been used to create a sense of sentience in an inanimate object? Was that possible? Perhaps. He'd learn more about it. Preferably in class, but he could do his own research. Best wait till the middle of the year where he was better acquainted with the place and magic.

"Greengrass, Daphne."

At this, Harry paid attention, noting the few minutes that it took the hat to sort Daphne. _SLYTHERIN_ , it had shouted. Harry wasn't surprised as her family, according to the book he had picked up from that bookshop...Flourish and Blotts. Well, that family was a long line of Slytherins and Ravenclaws, being associated as a 'Grey' family, never being affiliated with either side.

'God, the people in this world are so naive,' Harry thought. "There was no such thing as Good or Bad. It was just one side against the other, and one had probably done several good things and had been painted as the Light.'

Eventually, Professor McGonagall said, "Potter, Harry."

This, to Harry's annoyance, quieted the entire Hall. Every student that hadn't met him (except Weasley) looked at him in awe. Whispers ran through the crowd as he was forced to walk up the steps and sit on the pedestal. Resigned, he picked the Hat up and placed it on his head.

 _Interesting, Mr. Potter._

Harry's eyes widened at the sudden voice in his head. Instinctively, he tried to push the new presence out of his mind.

'Who are you and what the hell are you doing in my head?'

 _I'm a hat. I thought you knew that,_ the voice deadpanned. _Careful and don't try to throw me out. There's much here that I have to sort through so unless you want me to keep the image of your Uncle and Aunt going at it in your mind's eye for the rest of the day, then let me do this. I won't harm you. And you should also know that nothing can keep me out of your immature, horrid, disgusting, and revolting pubescent minds due to my enchantments. It's disgusting to see students having wet dreams about their sisters, crushes, and mothers._

'Sisters _and mother_ s?'

 _Yes, you human wizards are disgusting. Incest..._

'Is there anything else that I should know about this world, things that weren't covered in books?'

From that question, Harry was taken on a brief crash course of the history of the Wizarding World and Hogwarts. Of course, this was more than enough information to satiate him for the rest of the evening, but the Hat, after spending centuries doing the same thing over and over again, decided to have a talk. And so they bickered for what seemed like a few minutes to Harry.

It took them thirty minutes.

Seeing that the Hat wasn't going to be finished any time soon, Professor McGonagall then cleared her throat, saying, "Er… Sorting Hat?"

"What?" came the gravelly response.

"Are you nearly done? We don't have all evening."

"No, we don't. But we do have tomorrow," The Hat mischievously added after a pause.

At this, the rest of the Hall groaned as there were several people after Harry.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I've got to get back to sorting this perplexing child."

'Will you drag this along until tomorrow?' Harry mentally asked.

 _I wish. They'd bring in another blasted artifact and stick me back in my oh-so-special place where kids your age will tap their pudgy, greasy little fingers against the glass. Damned teachers. They don't let me do anything else._

 _Now let's see, we left off with the goblin wars…_

And so it went on for the next ten minutes until the Hat said, _They're starting to get agitated. Now, let's dive back into these memories. From your childhood with the Durlseys, you certainly have courage to stand up to opposition, but that is outweighed by your willingness to learn. When comes in the ambition, wanting to prove yourself to everyone, it absolutely dominates everything. You also hate your title as the Boy-Who-Lived; a title that proves nothing about you, just that for some reason, you survived the Killing Curse and killed Voldemort in the process. There are also those times that you used your knowledge to trick several of your students into giving you those pieces of candy...What is that?! A parselmouth?_

'What's that?' Harry, curious at the term

 _It's the term for a person who speaks to snakes._

Oh. The garden snake,' Harry thought sadly, remembering the snake that he had befriended. A snake that his uncle had brutally mutilated in front of him.

 _Quite sorry for that._

It's in the past. Now, just don't sort me into Hufflepuff.'

 _The supposedly lowest house of the four. You know, you have enough loya-_

'NO!'

 _HA! If I could see the look on your face. But, my eyes are nonexistent. At this point, you have a choice. In each house, you would excel, Ravenclaw and Slytherin empahsizing analytical skills and indifference while giving you influence while Gryffindor would give you courage and warmth while providing more chances at true friendship. Hufflepuff is apparently out of question, but you shouldn't limit yourself._

"HUFFLEPUFF!" the hat crowed, after hearing Harry's choice.

Harry's face contorted into fear and shock.

"Sorry!" the hat then bellowed. "I was thinking of someone else. SLYTHERIN!"

Immediately, Harry's robes were embroidered with a brilliant shade of green and shimmering silver. Slowly, he made his way towards the Slytherin table, seeing the looks of disgust that the older years had on their faces.

'Probably because of the fact that I'm a half-blood,' Harry thought.

Seeing and taking a seat, Harry half-listened as Professor McGonagall started to speak. Daphne discreetly moved over and said, "Never thought I'd see you here Potter, you know. With your parents being Gryffindor and all."

"One of my many surprises," Harry said, putting an air of mock pride.

"You're full of it," came the simple reply.

"You are too, if you know what I mean," Harry immediately replied, smirking.

Daphne simply blushed.

"Shut it Potter, or else you'll say something that you'll regret," came Daphne's response.

Harry, about to retort, was interrupted by the Headmaster's throat being cleared and Professor McGonagall taking a seat.

"Professor McGonagall has already said much of what I was supposed to say, but there's one last thing that I must address. The third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death. Now, let us eat!"

And so they ate with some Slytherins taking careful note of how Harry acted, watching in suspicion. Harry noticed them and didn't care even though he understood what they were doing.

'Looking for ways to try to manipulate me, I bet,' Harry thought.

Quickly, the feast concluded and the prefects were leading the tables to their respective common rooms. The password to the dungeons, which were apparently under the lake, was "anguis in herba." That was strange. A simple password to protect the common from the rest of the school. Harry just guessed that it was one of the other things that he was supposed to get used to. One of the prefects laid out the basic rules and procedures in Slytherin and led the boys to their respective dorms while another prefect did the same for the girls. Harry was put into Dorm 6 with Malfoy and _Zabini_ , something that seemed like a curse as Malfoy insisted on being the most self-righteous git that Harry had met. At that point, Harry placed a _Muffiliato_ charm over his bed and went to sleep under the protective bubble of magic.

A/N: Bloody iOS app. Can't fucking insert a line. But revised as of 04.14.17


	3. Envious Peers and the Know-It-All

02/01/17-I'm probably going to edit earlier chapters over the week and upload new chapters on most weekend. I've sorted out the sudden transitions in this chapter to the best of my ability. I couldn't leave the chapter alone; it was bothering me with the imperfections in immersion.

* * *

The sun gently shone through the window, allow Harry, who sat in Charms, to feel its warmth in the slightly musty classroom. He was looking around at the witches and wizards that sat in elevated rows. It was the eighth weekday he had been here, the first few days being filled with instructional material and the previous days being filled with theories on several basic spells. Today was the first day that they were able to actually use their wands actual spells instead of that ridiculous one that he heard the youngest Weasley chanting. He could see the wands waving while the teacher, Professor Flitwick sat there, watching as no one was able to perform the charm.

The entire thing seemed ridiculous to Harry who looked again at the incantation and saw the problem.

'The rest of the class is pronouncing it as _Wingardium Leviosar_ ,' Harry thought. This seemed utterly ridiculous as even the purebloods, those who had previous instruction, were unable to do such a simple spell. Harry felt the magic and energy that floated around the classroom, wasted from the failed incantations and lack of focus in each incorrect incantation.

To Harry, it seemed like he was giving commands to a computer. The correct set of commands, in magic, this is the incantation and the wand movements, allows the computer to do something. There was so much that you could do with a variation of these commands, provided that they were put in a logical sequence. You had to get the wand movements and the incantation just right. But this wasn't a complicated spell nor was it a ward. It was a simple spell, something that even a kindergartener could do.

In fact, it was such a simple spell that even some squibs had the ability to do the said spell, allowing them to briefly levitate objects. Of course, this may have meant that they were 'magical.' But several tests later, it was shown they were magically retarded.

After hearing Daphne and Zabini fail, Harry was annoyed. _No_ one had the ability to do the spell. It made no fucking sense.

 _Wingardium Leviosa!_ Harry incanted with a bored tone, flicking his wand this way and that. He directed his magic towards the feather, unsurprised at the lack of 'weight' in the feather. It flew until it reached the very top of the ceiling, then it slowly drifted back down.

Harry could feel eyes on him, and with a sigh, he looked back at them. Each student was looking at him in awe and some in jealousy. That was another one of the things that he had to deal with. Not only the backstabs and manipulations but the outbursts from jealous students. Like Weasley.

So many people had approached him, asking whether or not he remembered the night that he had "vanquished" old Moldyshorts. It was ridiculous, but that train of thought dissipated with the sudden cheery voice of the short Professor.

"Mr. Potter, congratulations! Ten points to Slytherin. Would you like to explain what you did differently?"

Harry softly sighed. Of course he would ask for the thing he did properly. "I pronounced _Leviosa_ exactly as the book said, not adding an R and emphasizing the O in the incantation."

"Another five points to Slytherin for the explanation," the professor said rather energetically, enjoying the concise and quick answer he had been given. "Now," Flitwick said, "Hopefully you will be able to do the same thing."

Harry could feel the hatred that many Ravenclaws had at the fact that they were bested by a Slytherin. Not that there was a feud between them, but they seemed to mostly hate the moments when a person from another house was better than them.

Daphne simply nodded her support, somehow seeing the internal conflict in his mind while Blaise whispered, "Good job." For a second, Harry thought that he was going to pat his back. But when it was shown that Blaise wouldn't do such a thing, Harry breathed a silent sigh of relief. It was odd, though, Slytherins providing their support on the first day. They were, supposedly, evil from everything that was being said about his house. In that case, he should have been left alone. Odd. Simply odd...

A few seconds after the glares subsided, Harry noticed a bushy haired girl, whom he recognized as Hermione Granger from the Ceremony, levitating the feather. He smiled, knowing that she either found motivation to do better by being outsmarted by another, recognizing that she was like him, or that she purposely hindered herself to avoid attention.

After making a quick decision and seeing the prospect of a new friend, he quickly wrote down a note and left it in his pocket. The rest of the class was as boring as before as more and more people refused to acknowledge their mistakes. It was still ludicrous. Harry could feel the growing frustration of those around him.

Seeing that Daphne was having trouble, he gave her a few pointers, mainly showing her that the main problem was that she was her grip on the wand. The same happened with Blaise and Tracey, the latter giving him a hug for helping her causing Harry to stiffen quite a lot. The brunette had a smile on her face, happy that she had been able to do something that most of the class was unable to do. Blaise simply watched her actions with slight interest, carefully watching the Slytherins around them and hoping that they wouldn't try anything at a later date.

There were several others who were able to do the charm, but the majority of the students were unable to do it, slightly degrading Harry's image of his peers. He had his mind on one thing and one thing only right before he slipped out of the class for Potions.

As Harry exited, he accidentally bumped into Granger, who was sorted into Ravenclaw, and apologized, making his way to Potions. The witch, feeling something slip into a pocket resolved to take it out later, and when she did, she agreed.

-In the Hallways-

Harry quickly slunk along the hallways, knowing that no one would want to bother him. Daphne and the others were used to his behavior, noticing it the second day of school. He liked the way that no one necessarily paid any attention to him, leaving him in peace.

Peace. That was something that seemed to be in short supply as school and work started to slowly pile up on his mind. He could quite easily finish the homework, taking the necessary classes for first years and receiving private lessons for Ancient Runes, but it was the sheer amount of it that annoyed him and bogged him down. More often than not, he found doubts that he had been able to complete all of his homework, missing something in the process. Other than that, there wasn't much to do.

Harry resolved to go to Professor McGonagall later to see if he take on second year transfiguration. He couldn't believe the pace at which they learned. The first week spent on attempting and mastering the transfiguration of a matchstick to a needle?! It was utterly ludicrous. It was so simple. She couldn't even argue that it would take that long for people to thoroughly develop an understanding for such a transformation.

He quickly walked across the cold stone floor and walked into Potions, noticing that he was at least 10 minutes early. Oh well, he'd just get ready for a class with one of the better Professors.

-Time passed-

Potions was going along quite well. Harry acknowledged the irregular hate that many Slytherins held for the Gryffindors, something that was once again ludicrous.

'First of all, why were we placed in the same class it's evident that we hate each other?" Harry thought. "And second, what has happened to our camaraderie from our age? We aren't mortal enemies damn it!'

Quickly, that train of thought left when Professor Snape asked, "Potter, what will I get if I add Powdered Root of Asphodel to an infusion of Wormwood?"

Easily multi-tasking between stirring the cauldron clock-wise and trying to find an answer to the question, he suddenly said, "The Draught of Living Death."

"Correct Mr. Potter, it seems like you've been reading ahead," the professor said something indescribable in his eyes though his expression showing surprise. "Ms. Greengrass, where would I find a bezoar?"

Harry's partner had been carefully watching his progress, providing a bit of direction for Harry, was shaken from watching the process of the potion and said, "The stomach of a goat."

"Correct," the professor simply said, noting the fact that Harry was following the instructions to the letter.

Harry, who was impressed by the speed of her answer, waved his wand over the potion and grabbed a vial, pouring it in and setting it aside for the moment that the potion was due. At this point, the professor was at the board, listing the possible uses for the potion of forgetfulness.

"Weasley," he addressed the repulsive boy, "What is the difference between Monkshood and Wolfsbane?"

"U-uuuh," Ronald stammered, "I-I don't know."

"You don't know?" Professor Snape asked. "How pathetic, I shouldn't have thought that the youngest Weasley had read only a few pages ahead. Potter, what's the answer?"

"There is no difference Professor. They are the same plant that goes by the name of Aconite."

"Very good Potter. Twenty points to Slytherin for being more competent than Weasley over there."

At this, Weasley started to get agitated, turning red from both embarrassment and rage. Harry thought that he would have exploded, but unfortunately, his face only turned as red as his hair. The Boy-Who-Lived chuckled softly. Unfortunately, the professor heard this.

"Mr. Potter, is there a problem?" Professor Snape asked, his tone hiding something.

"No sir," Harry quickly replied.

"Then why are you laughing?"

Knowing that he had to tell the truth from the expression on the professor's face, he said, "Weasley."

Looking, Snape simply said, "Ah. It seems that Mr. Weasley is having quite a severe reaction to the dose of embarrassment he's been given. Would you need to go to Madam Pomfrey?"

"N-n-no," the youngest Weasley said, surrendering to his fate.

"Ten points from Gryffindor for stuttering."

"No sir," the redhead said, obviously trying to keep his tone steady.

"Five points from Gryffindor for being too loud."

That was the last sentence that the class heard from the Professor about Weasley. Several minutes later of potion brewing led to the the end of class, causing a plethora of potions to be turned in.

At Harry's potion, Snape said, "Outstanding Potter. I didn't expect the son of James Potter to be so skilled at Potions. Then again, I didn't know what to expect of his spawn."

Nodding at this underhand comment and this jab at his father, he left and gathered his stuff, heading towards the library.

The hallways, at this time were crowded with a person able to hear a cacophony of voices. So many robes swished this way and that, occasionally causing someone to trip. Harry carefully took the lesser known passages towards the library, solely thinking about the confrontation. There were a plethora of things that could go wrong, but Harry didn't care.

He quickly reached the library's oak doors. It seemed as if the Founders quite loved their wooden doors. Madam Pince was sitting at her desk, taking a glance at the newcomer and smiled quite warmly. It was quite some time before lunch when he opened his satchel and took out a book on Transfiguration. He found the Charms book he was looking for earlier and looked for Granger.

She was sitting in her small corner of the library, reading _A History of Magic._

He walked up to her oh so quietly and said, "Granger."

"Harry."

Coldly, he said, "I didn't know that we were on a first name basis."

Hermione sighed, recognizing his behaviour. "Sorry, but I was trying to be polite."

Harry oddly smiled for no reason and said, "I bet you were wondering why I wanted to become your friend."

She nodded.

"Well, I've seen what you can do and you remind me of a friend of mine?" he said, lying rather spectacularly.

Whatever she was expecting, this wasn't it. "No catches?" she asked, knowing how well that people in Slytherin tried to manipulate people.

"None at all."

"Okay," she said, obviously unsure what to say next.

"Might as well," Harry muttered, raising his voice as he then said, "Don't shove your skills under the rug and let them be seen. Take advantage of your reputation as Muggleborn."

"What?" Hermione was perplexed at the suddeness of the order.

"I noticed you you in Charms, doing the charm right after I did."

"B-but I followed your advice," Hermione said a bit too quickly.

Harry simply arched his eyebrow, making Professor Snape proud had he seen the action.

Hermione simply sighed. "What about the people in Ravenclaw?"

"Them?" Harry said. "What about them?"

"What if they get mad at me for beating them like you?"

"Please. It's practically the House of Smart People. It's a place for competition. Of course they will, but that'll only motivate them to do better."

"You know what the benefit of being friends with me include?"

"Everlasting fame?" Hermione said.

"Other than that," Harry said cheekily.

"What?" Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Protection, information, and tutoring," he listed off his fingers.

"Protection and tutoring? Excuse me, but why the hell would I need that?" she asked, seeming to be unconvinced.

"Protection from those who would hate a person born of muggles being better than them and tutoring for more advanced areas of magic."

" _Advanced_ areas of magic?" She curiously asked. "Please tell me of supposed areas that I haven't heard of?"

"Well not necessarily things you haven't heard of, but defense and offense. But it's true. I am up to the fourth year spells when it comes to protection. Did you know that _Protego_ has the ability to deflect physical projectiles?"

"Obviously. It's a shield charm and it's been shown to be effective against arrows."

"But can you do it?"

"Of course not, I haven't been able to find any wand movements for it. That's what I'm going to look for over the weekend."

 _Protego,_ Harry incanted, making sure that no one saw the shield.

Hermione's eyes widened quite a bit at the shield that Harry somehow perfected. Harry was proud of his accomplishments at defense and resolved to master several offensive spells at a later date. He also knew that for first years, this was quite impressive. He had been practicing it in an room within the Leaky Cauldron during his shopping spree as well as with a pencil in his cupboard.

"How did you learn that?! Where's the book? When did you learn it?" How do you do it? Wha-"

"Whoa, better stay quiet else someone will hear you. Think about it, the Boy-Who-Lived defeated Voldemort at the age of one. Surely, a person at Flourish Blotts could give the savior of the Wizarding World a book on both offensive and defensive magic." he said, smiling.

"Ohh. That makes sense." Hermione said, still careful.

Harry sighed. "No it doesn't."

"But-"

"It's not a mint."

Hermione paused then groaned. "Why?" She asked in a whiny voice.

"It was the perfect opportunity." Harry was smiling quite broadly. "Is there anything you want to discuss?"

"Yes," Hermione said, thinking. "Protego, and more specifically how to cast it.

"Well, it's not _that_ hard, it just takes a bit of time to master…"

* * *

A/N: This chapter was probably a bit worse than usual, but I'm absolute rubbish at writing and want to get chapters in when I have the time. I think that I'm making the characters a bit too mature, but hey I wouldn't know about maturity-I'm only a pre-teen. I made Snape nicer towards Harry with him being in Slytherin and not necessarily reminding him of James. Hermione, I'm slightly modelling her after myself and allowing her to actually use that mind of hers since I believe that she could be better off without the attention instead of the books where she was advertised as the smartest witch of her generation. Hi, goodbye, once again, and sorry if you don't like this (and for any grammar mistakes). Still learning.

Revised as of04.14.17


	4. A Fantasitc Vision with a Mirror

_A/N This_ chapter feels quite different. There was something off after the first portion. Also, I think that I'm being influenced by several works of fiction (i.e. A Cadmean Victory, Angry Harry and the Seven, etc.) and I don't know whether or not that's a good thing. Oh well. This chapter is nearly twice as long as the first one, so enjoy, or don't.

* * *

 _The man in front of him was screaming his lungs out. The room around him was destroyed, reduced to absolute rubble. Bodies lay around him while he could hear the screams and crying of women in the other rooms. His mind was focused on one thing and it sent waves of euphoria blasting through his mind._

 _The man would serve as an image for the aurors that came here._

 _"CRUCIO!" He shouted, inflicting as much pain as possible, firing off every nerve ending in his body._

 _He loved to see the little creature writhe helplessly on the ground, he loved his complete control over the life and death of these things. They were so funny, it was as if they thought they had a chance to live in his wake. He wanted to show them pain. Sheer pain. And then slowly kill them, causing them to beg for their death._

 _Fondly, he remembered the women he had hosted on top of the pyramid, slowly splitting her apart. She screamed for days until it was over all too quickly, the screams quieted down. Her body had been mutilated, blood seeping out of newly opened cuts from knives and organs slowly spilling out of her body. It took several days for his new Death Eaters to clean the place, without magic. He wanted to show them the things that he could do and forced them to clean without magic to show them what he had done._

 _Blood spilled out of the man's mouth, adding to the liquid that coated the walls and the floor._

 _He, the god amongst wizards, suddenly changed spells, sending a spell that slowly skinned he man in front of him. First, it was the legs that gave way. Slowly the skin peeled apart like the skin of a banana. The nails fell of as the man somehow achieved a Louder scream. It slowly climbed up the body, revealing the interior of the man's body and the pulsing insides of the man. Somehow, the man was still alive. It slowly climbed and as it did, organs and muscles started falling apart, the bones collapsing on the ground and the man doing the same. Eventually, the man was reduced to a pile of skin, bone and organs._

 _'A waste,' he thought as he turned towards the remaining wizard in the room. He raised his wand, about to cast a spell when a fat man scuttled into the room._

 _"Master," he cried out, "The Aurors are coming."_

 _"Then waste no time, Wormtail. Apparate back, recover, and make preparations. GO!"_

 _That sent the man, Wormtail, scurrying back to wherever he came from. The Master held out his holly, phoenix feather core wand out and transfigured barbed, iron spikes from the rubble and banished them into the bound body of the wizard._

 _Slowly, he levitated the corpse and banished the spikes into the wall, applying a…unique sticking charm to the body along with a stasis charm to keep the man alive and barely conscious, yet in pain. It also kept the blood fresh. He did the same with several bodies laying around him and in no time, seven bodies hung on the wall, impaled by spikes._

 _"Morsmodre!" He intoned, quickly apparating as the Aurors started to close in._

Harry was screaming his lungs out. He screamed until he couldn't scream anymore and he sat there writhing in both pain and misery. His head throbbed with even more pain than his relatives could inflict and that was saying something. Blood started to seep out of the lightning bolt scar on his forehead. His roommates were annoyed, waking up to his bloodcurdling screams. Screams that somehow deactivated his privacy wards and spells that he had placed upon his bed.

"What the hell is this all about?!" Malfoy asked angrily, jerked from his beauty sleep due to the screams he had heard in his sleep.

At the same time, Professor Snape walked in, furious at the intrusion of the dungeon's quiet nature.

"Potter! What is going on?!" He asked furiously. He started to berate him for not answering right away, but saw the boy writhing in pain, moaning and whimpering from sudden fits of pain.

Harry suddenly felt a person, pick him up and hoist him on the shoulders. He softly groaned. Swiftly yet carefully, the man seemed to carry him through the dark halls and the magically warm rooms. Each step seemed to be pure agony for Harry, whose head painfully throbbed each time. The few minutes that it took Snape to cover the hallways from the dorms to his lab felt like an eternity in Harry's mind.

Once they were inside the Lab, Snape slowly set him into a chair and grabbed a yellow potion. Immediately, Harry knew that this was going to be repulsive.

"Drink it now Potter, unless you want to stay like this for the rest of the night."

Of course, Harry grabbed the vial and uncorked it, gulping the putrid liquid in seconds. Immediately, the potion set in. His nerve endings seemed to be numbed, allowing him to consciously think instead of simply being in a searing, hot pain that never seemed to end. The throbs in his head subsided while his scar slowly stopped bleeding.

"What the _bloody_ hell happened Potter?" Snape demanded after sitting in silence, across from him.

Harry didn't answer immediately, still gathering his thoughts. Instead, he let his eyes roam around the room. It was quite spacious, yet threatening. Normally, he guessed, the walls would have seemed to slowly close in on him which gave iot an ominous feeling. Potions were methodically arranged in shelves, books were piled up in a corner, and the equipment seemed to be running in top notch condition. There were flasks, boilers, fires, cauldrons, and vials, littering the area in methodical chaos.

Eventually he said, "I had a dream."

"A _dream?_ That's what that was? A _fucking_ dream that caused you to convulse and possibly wake everyone in this part of the castle up?" Snape asked incredulously, being the person who rarely cursed.

"Well, what else would you call seeing something while you were sleeping? Watching an enchanted picture that seemed to be composed of dead bodies?"

"Dead bodies?" Snape was even more surprised; something that seemed incredulous in itself considering the fact that he had been quite surprised. "Well? What happened in your so called 'dream?'"

From there, Harry proceeded to share all that had happened in the short dream. He talked in great detail about the things the man, he, had said to the rat of a man. He discussed the bodies with the professor and the fact that Death Eaters seemed to be a core part of the dream.

"That was most certainly not a dream Potter," Snape said, mulling over the things he had said. "That had actually happened. It was in July of 1980. The Dark Lord had mutilated the adults in the Bones' residence, leaving the child as a way to scar her for life. Something that was even worse than death. The child is currently in Hufflepuff, Susan Bones. You are familiar with her?

"I've helped her with homework."

"Any reasons for that?"

"None, sir."

"Tut-tut," the professor said with his tongue. "In this house, you don't do things for free unless it has been established that they are your friends. Something that you are familiar with from your dealings with the other people of this house?"

"Yeah, but I thought that it was only applicable to our house."

"You would have been better sorted into Gryffindor then, Potter. These days, I swear that the Hat is purposely giving me incompetent Slytherins."

Harry said nothing at this.

"But that's beside the point. Take this," the professor said, almost fatherly, grabbing a set of vials that he somehow had on hand. "And go back to your dorms immediately. Tell no one of this."

Harry grabbed the set and started to head out of the lab. He heard, as he closed the oaken doors, someone shout out 'Headmaster's Office.' At that point, Harry didn't want to go back, the thoughts of the dreams being overpowered by the sudden urge to go to sleep. And so he did, slowly making his way back to the sixth dorm, ignoring the loud snores of Blaise and the indignant things Malfoy was saying. He quickly cast another muffling spell and plopped down into the bed, falling asleep the moment that his head touched the pillow. The last thought that raced through his mind was that tomorrow was another day of school.

-Nothing Spectacular Happening here, Move On-

Harry woke up groggily. He slowly reached for his wand, mortified that he had kept it in his pocket. 'At least I didn't blast my arse off,' he ruefully thought. He _scourgified_ the sweat and the spittle from last night's ordeal. Sadly, that didn't help with the smell. Repulsed, he cast a quick _Tempus_ and was happy that despite last night's ordeal, he still woke up at 4:45 a.m. He downed one of the pain-relieving potions that Professor Snape had given him and started to make his way towards the showers. Thankfully, the other boys were still sleeping by the time that he had been able to shower and change.

His hair was still unkempt and his body lanky, but he could deal with it. He exited the dorms and silently made his way towards the dorms. The hallways were oddly quiet, almost solemn. For what, Harry didn't know.

He then heard whispering. It came from don the hallway, from one of the empty rooms. That was unusual. No one other than the staff should be up yet. He had never seen nor heard any students awaken at such an early hour so he went out to investigate.

Slowly, he made his way towards the room that he believed the sounds to be coming from. Fishing out his wand, he reached the cupboard only to hear the sobbing diminish. It was quite stupid of them, Harry believed. That these people or this person would allow themselves to be heard only to get caught. It was ridiculous. He slowly opened the door and stood there, shocked.

It was a mirror. But it didn't seem like any mirror, whispers coming from it, promising things that he could only dream of. Above the mirror, on a metal pane, words were scrawled in elegant handwriting, saying, "Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi."

But Harry didn't care. He saw himself being hugged by a woman with red hair and green eyes. She wore the colours of a Gryffindor with her hair flowing freely behind her shoulders. A man with brown eyes and Harry's unkempt hair stood to the side, beaming. Harry had just became the Head Boy and was being given a library of books. He could see Daphne and blushed while Blaise was standing with the man. Tracey was smiling, flying around and scattering confetti around the place. But the one thing that seemed to radiate from the mirror was love. Love and friendship. Those were the two things that seemed so close, yet so far from his grasp. Harry could feel his eyes tearing up. But then the rational side of his mind kicked in. This couldn't be a normal mirror. This wasn't supposed to happen. He then felt the strange urge to stare into the mirror. To stare into his dream and be lost. It was strange, his mind having a tug-of-war. Slowly, Harry looked around and saw the words at the very top of the mirror. "Desire," was the word he saw and immediately understood. This is his desire. This, these are the things that he wanted the most in the world. But he knew that he couldn't achieve them. There was this thought in his mind that he would never be loved. That he would never be fucking cared for. That everyone around him only care about his physical health, never bothering to mention the fucking emotional side of him.

And he shook himself free and did the only logical thing. He sent a _Reducto_ at it, causing it to explode into a shower of shimmering glass. He heard clapping.

"Well done Mr. Potter, well done. Greater witches and wizards than you have been reduced to shells from such a mirror. It seems like you are the only person of the many visitors who has been able to resist it." Dumbledore stepped out. The bastard.

"Headmaster," he started, getting agitated by the man's apparent lack of concern. "You left a dangerous artifact in a room that could be easily accessible. What in the world are you thinking?! To just let a child waltz into this room and die from longing? And what would you have done?"

"Now, now Harry," the Headmaster began in calm, conciliatory tones that only infuriated Harry. "I am truly sorry that there were no other precautions made for this artifact, but I received the mirror on such a short notice. Then, I simply wan-"

"-Wanted to see whether or not an eleven year old would be able to resist the mental pulls that 'greater wizards could not withstand?'" Harry interrupted. "Is _that_ what you wanted?"

"No my dear boy. I merely wanted to protect the minds of students," the Headmaster seemed to sincerely say. "So I placed it in one of these rooms. In fact, this room is out of the way of main hallways, if you had paid attention. I was unable to make the necessary precautions for the Mirror as I was immediately pulled away due to paperwork and the preparations that are being made for the All Hallows' feast."

"But sir," Harry said in a strained tone, obviously restraining his anger. "That's weeks from now."

"Yet, things such as the entertainment has to be handled quite carefully. Then there are the timed potions for several effects and other things. It's quite the Feast."

"Ok…" Harry hesitantly said.

"Now, I believe that you must go to the Great Hall Harry. And please do hurry for there are things that lurk in this castle that even I do not know."

And so Harry left, confused with many things. He was thinking of the way that the Headmaster simply stood there as he was entranced and the way that the Headmaster gave a perfectly logical explanation without hesitation despite the look he had when I spouted off. He didn't know what to make of it, so he mentally approached academic topics. Things that he was actually good at.

With this mindless walking, Harry reached the Great Hall and noticed several things. There were people in there, meaning that his escapade with the Headmaster took longer than expected. The was a new teacher with a turban wrapped around his head. He had an unusually straight and stern face, although from what Harry could hear, was countered by the ridiculous bouts of stuttering the man had. He saw Hermione crying softly on the edge of the table, bent over a book, while Daphne was slowly shaking her head. Blaise looked worried while Tracey was completely oblivious to everything around her, obviously wanting to simply eat. Daphne slowly made his way towards him, furious at his blatant concern for the Ravenclaw.

"Damn it Potter, don't get involved right now," she said in a soft tone that didn't dilute the ferocity that the sentence was said with. "There are too many watching now. Your little stunt with her the other day was risky. People saw the two of you walk out of the library together. _She_ ," Daphne gestured, "looked a bit too happy. Many in Slytherin noticed and hate it when one of them tries to befriend muggleborn. Rumours started to show up. Now, _come on!_ "

With that she grabbed his hand and dragged him to the table of snakes. Their arrival wasn't unnoticed.

"Congratulations Potter," said an all too familiar voice. "You've been able to seduce two unfortunate women. Sadly, I have to inform them that you are quite lacking and don't live up to the standard. One is a mudblood and the other is a pureblood who isn't fit to mingle with the likes of _you._ "

Annoyed, Harry, in a condescending tone that could be heard by everyone around them, said, "Oh. You've been checking me out Malfoy? I've also heard that you're quite lacking. Perhaps, I should ask Daphne over here to place a permanent shrinking charm to make it nonexistent."

"I'd gladly do it," Daphne said with a cold expression, causing many of the boys to shiver.

"I will get you back for this Potter, just you wait." Malcom haughtily said.

"So, you'll go crying back to the father that we've heard so much about?"

At this Malfoy simply stood up and exited, a furious expression on his face. It was all to easy. Harry chuckled.

"Well done Harry," Blaise said with a smile in his voice. "You've been able to deter the ferret once again."

"Thank you," Harry said as he smirked.

"Now that the two of you are done talking, let's eat," The only Davis in the school said. "I'm starving."

And so they ate, completely oblivious to the things that were going to happen in the coming weeks.

* * *

A/N: That was a cheap last sentence, but I couldn't help it. :) Snape still sees Harry as Lily Potter despite the uncanny representation of James Potter in him. Thanks for reading and for those who have reviewed. I might be overdoing it with the descriptions of hallways, but I'll leave it-(02/03/17)

(02/04/17) I just realised that I had classified Hermione as a Gryffindor in this chapter instead of a Ravenclaw, so continuity errors fixed. I feel stupid for missing such an important (or unimportant) detail.

Revised as of 04.14.17


	5. You Didn't Object

A/N: It's still the same day

* * *

It was nearly the end of the day and Harry couldn't see Hermione anywhere during his breaks. The last class, DADA seemed to be a joke. The previous teacher, according to the older students was actually better and was quite engaging. She could be described as enjoyable. But Professor…Quirrel, was it? He was a joke, a complete failure in terms of teaching due to his persistence to talk instead of write, his gift of stuttering leading to hilarious moments and a lack of effective teaching. Harry reckoned that there was little he could learn about DADA by simply listening to the man and taking notes. So, he decided to read, and read, covering as many topics in DADA as possible. It was the only thing that he seemed to be good at other than crushing his competition in terms of academics with his only competition being Hermione. But today, there was no sense of euphoria in enjoying. He felt guilty about said rumours. He felt those damned feelings again, feelings of guilt, shame, and regret.

Quickly, he turned his attention back to Professor McGonagall who was describing the theory of transfiguring a living animal into an inanimate one. Strangely, she didn't cover the effects such a transfiguration would have on a human so Harry raised his hand.

"Yes…Mr Potter?" she asked in a voice that barely concealed her annoyance at the fact that a Slytherin, him, was at the top of her class. The fact that he was Lily and James Potter's son didn't seem to dilute her loathing.

"How would a human be affected?"

"A human, you say?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Well, you'd have to be very careful else you risk the chance of killing the person outright. Then there is the problem of a massive number of elements that aren't uniformly distributed through the body…This does require more thought to it," she said in a serious tone. "But then, humans _are_ animals. Mr. Potter, please direct any of your questions to me at the end of my lesson, or at least when I stop talking, so that you don't ask unnecessary questions."

Harry looked certifiably chastised, his head turning beet red as several people stared at him. Daphne didn't seem to notice while Blaise had an indescribable look. Tracey was still oblivious. The lesson continued as normal although Harry was significantly subdued. He didn't speak when unnecessary and seemed to sulk.

'I asked a perfectly innocent question then _she_ has to go ahead and embarrass me in front of the entire class,' Harry thought, certainly questionable images flying through his mind. 'Another thing that I have to face with Malfoy. I could just see his face right now, his mouth contorting into what he called a smile with the first signs of zits all over his face.'

"Now, let's move onto the practical parts of the lesson. _I_ will be choosing your partners as a way to avoid the chaos that we faced yesterday. Ms. Greengrass with Ms. Macmillan. Ms. Abbot with Mr. Finch-Fletchey…" the professor continued to call down the list she had elegantly summoned, flourishing her wand.

And from this list, Harry was paired with Susan Bones, the child that had been left in that hell hole. She was pretty, that Harry had to admit. Her skin was pale without blemish. Her face, which sported a slight scar on her cheek, thin lips, and stormy grey eyes, was framed by her deep red hair that flowed past her shoulders. From her mannerisms, Susan had been courteous and kind. She loved life, nature, and wanted peace. But she wasn't like her average Hufflepuff, understanding that at times, you had to fend for your own and not for others. And that's what she did, she worked for herself and by herself. She offered help to those around her, but was quite withdrawn. She would never meet the eyes of anyone, even if Snape insisted upon it. She flinched when in large crowds and was quite fidgety when confronted. It seemed like her hand permanently hovered over her wand, either to defend or attack.

That was another one of the details that Harry noticed. Her nails were painted blood red, the thing that oozed down the walls of her home as the Aurors closed in onto her location. It caused Harry's eyes to slightly widen and unfortunately, Susan noticed.

"Something wrong with my fingers Harry?" she asked in a soft tone, oddly to see the realization in his eyes. Harry felt a light probing in his mind which was somehow and instinctively repelled in a gentle manner, it somehow recognizing where it originated.

"No, Susan, nothing," he replied in a distracted tone, trying to understand what that 'probe' was. "Let's start."

He was surprised by what he had heard, in the last few seconds. It was barely incomprehensible, but Harry would think about it at a later date. She then asked in a louder tone, "Do you remember the incantation?"

"Of course," Harry said in the same conversational tone. " _'Vera Verto'_ right?"

"Yeah."

And so they were set upon mastering the spell, with Harry being the first person to master it, again. He was able to change the animal in front of them, a slug, into the goblet. He guided Susan, telling her that it was completely about intent. He corrected her wand movements and told her not to flourish her wand. In no time, she had been able to change the slug into a goblet.

Harry, as always, thought it was ridiculously easy, but made no comment in fear of being chastised by McGonagall again. She watched him like a hawk, but was forced to give him "Fifteen points to Slytherin for being the first to master the spell and for helping another."

From this, Harry came to his own revelation of the Scottish woman that sternly stood at her desk, watching the other failed and successful attempts of the wizards and witches that sat in her classroom.

"Mr. Potter?" she asked publicly. "How far along the Hogwarts curriculum are you?

Harry was surprised. No self-respecting teacher that wanted to keep her job would ask a student this in front of the entire class unless it was a known fact.

"And answer honestly."

Damn. She wasn't going to let him say that he was finished with this year's curriculum.

"Uh…Professor?"

"Yes?"

"When is the _Lapifors_ spell taught?"

"The _Lapifors_ spell?" she was surprised. "That's a third-year spell, Mr. Potter. Can you perform it with proficiency?"

"I would guess so."

"Then do it to this statue," the professor instructed, turning his 'goblet' into a statue.

At this, Harry spoke the spell, causing it to transform into a black and white rabbit that lively hopped around. Now, Harry could feel their eyes on him again. Their eyes, their accursed eyes. Damn.

"Mr. Potter, that was a perfect example. Now, what compelled you to study ahead?"

"Err…" was his eloquent answer. His mind strayed to the Dursleys who threatened him at every mistake. He could hear his uncle just thundering down the stairs like a giant simply walking. He could hear the jeers of Dudley and the bellows of Vernon. Petunia would simply stand there with an expressionless face as if he didn't exist. Harry could feel the shudders coming and started to think of other things. He started thinking of trolls, what little of unicorns was covered, and the things monstrous things that could be found in his books on beasts and monsters.

"I was curious and wanted to learn," he simply answered, thinking that it was the best course of action. He couldn't wait for the silent hatred the others would have at his skill and the many ways they would try to influence him.

"To simply learn? How did you get your hands on _"Intermediate Transfiguration_?"

"…The library?" He answered, not understanding where the professor wanted to go with this line of questioning.

She turned to the rest of the class. "Why haven't you all at least reviewed the lessons in your books? Mr. Potter has done things that people two years older than him has had trouble with. You can't simply mark that off to talent. Sure, it may show through, but this, class, is something that is achieved by reading, learning, and practicing. Today, I have taught you a spell that is normally taught in second year. This class is one with the highest potential that I've seen in many years. But you are throwing that potential away by striving for an Acceptable. I expect that you will get E's or higher on a consistent basis. Anything less won't attend the party that I annually host, and it would be such a shame as you'd be excused from most of your classes that day."

That sparked the excitement of many in the class, especially the lazy ones. 'Perfect plan Professor,' Harry thought, oddly liking her though she had embarrassed him. It was strange. But it worked, so there it was.

The rest of the class, except Daphne, Tracey, Blaise, and Susan, looked at him in silent hatred with their anger towards the policy being quite obvious. Harry looked uncomfortable, yet felt better, knowing that he had friends that supported him. Fuck. Harry remembered Hermione silently weeping at the table with no one else supporting her. He was forced to keep himself from looking at her due to the rumors that were making their rounds.

Susan once again saw using her miraculous vision, the he was having an internal battle.

"It's okay," she whispered.

Harry looked at her incredulously, trying his best to subdue his expression yet failing. Luckily, he was facing away from the class as he was at the front.

"How..." he started, his voice trailing off.

"Did I know? Your magic started to change, your aura. It became more potent, shifting from the normal white to a slight purple. Purple's never good for you."

"A-auras?" Harry asked, only reading the smallest bit about the auras that surrounded practitioners of magic. Had he never looked a bit too far in looking for what had happened in Ollivander's shop, then he would have passed Susan's statements as absolute jargon.

"Yeah, I can see them. Mindless fact of the day, I have a talent that shows me when people are horny. You can see the possible implication of that."

Harry ignored the last statement. "And why are you telling me this?" he asked suspicious.

A smile seemed to threaten to break out on her face for no reason whatsoever (it perplexed Harry). "Are you Slytherins always so uptight and naïve? We're friends, we share stuff. Don't deny me Harry. You didn't have to help me and I know what a Slytherin should do when it comes to things like that. You didn't try to use me, but simply wanted to help me. We're friends, and if we aren't, then I'm offering you my friendship. No, don't send me all that nonsense about not having friends, I can see yours."

Harry suddenly noticed the Professor looking at them with an indescribable expression. There was almost…fondness? Love? Affection? All three? She flicked her wand at them, and Harry suddenly felt wards disappearing. Susan noticed and nodded her thanks. Harry simply stared. Shaking him, they turned back to the other aspect of their lesson—the theory.

And they worked for the remainder of the class, finishing their assignments long before the class was dismissed.

"And Harry," he heard Susan saying with a smile in her voice, causing him to face her as they walked out of class. "You didn't object."

With that, she left. Harry, who was slightly smiling at the entire situation, was determined to find Hermione. He headed in the most logical direction, the library. He shrunk his books and satchel, putting them in his pocket, and took off at a near silent run. He had run like this for quite some time, learning to run with unnatural silence due to the gang that Dudley hung around with. Piers, who had joined a school's track team gave him lengthy exercises-and beatings. They often surrounded him, taking every opportunity to show him who ruled the streets. Who ruled his life. He could still feel their grubby hands on him, the pain that filled him with every hit. He had cried, trying to do his best to understand why they beat him. He had done nothing wrong, yet they called him a worthless piece of trash.

Harry would prove them wrong.

The hallways that he took were abandoned, allowing him to quickly reach the oak doors. Taking care to unshrink his library books before entering, he placed them on the counter. Madam Pince took a long look at him, trying to understand him. Oddly, she nodded towards a small section of the library.

"The books on Charms are over there," she told Harry. "Do be careful when handling them, some of them haven't been reinforced at the moment."

Confused, Harry nodded and headed off in the direction that she nodded in. The Charms section. He didn't ask for anything, so Harry was perplexed. He could hear someone sniffing softly, and immediately headed through the bookcases.

"Harry?" came a feminine voice, cracking from the extensive crying. Harry rounded the corner to see her reading, eyes puffy. "Why?"

"Why what? Why did they spread rumours? They want to see my image destroyed, so they try to spread rumours. I am absolute rubbish at comforting a person, but Hermione, you can't listen to them. They are absolute snots who want to stand in the remains of their enemies. My question is, will you let them?"

It was quiet for some time after his question. Hermione said one word, "No," in the softest voice in the world.

"Then know that I'm here, a shoulder you can cry on." With this, Harry walked over and sat next to her on the floor. He picked the book in her hands and placed it next to her, removing any distractions. In a less impassioned tone, he said, "It hurts like hell doesn't it?"

She nodded.

In a soft tone, he then said, "But think about it. It's either continually do this, or better yourself. Rub their rumours in their face and prove them wrong. Show them that you are strong and different from those in Ravenclaw. You're already one of the best, so become _the_ best. Age never mattered to you or me. Then they can't say anything about you."

Hermione softly sobbed, but it seemed more subdued. This was going to take a while.

"Hermione, don't fall into that pit. Accept it and move on."

"How? How do I accept their hatred? The rumours that fly around?"

On an additional note, this was going to be harder.

"Accept them like you accept death," Harry said, carefully choosing his words. "Know that there will be people who absolutely hate you as if they have nothing more important in their life. But don't let them get to you. Don't let them make you their punching bag, move on. There's nothing else to do."

Softly, she croaked an okay.

Patting her back, he pulled out his wand and said _Tempus._ They had about an hour left.

"I have to go Hermione. I'm sorry, but I'll owl you tomorrow. Can't have them seeing me slip a message."

Hermione seemed to become sadder, but understood.

"And no, I won't cast a cheering charm," Harry said after seeing her state, knowing of what she wanted so badly. "It's like taking a drug."

Saying his goodbye, he left and headed towards the Slytherin common room. Yet on his way there, he heard something. Something was hissing. That was interesting. Maybe the snake that Blaise continuously talked about got out. Harry headed towards the sound and discovered a sign covered in cobwebs.

It was carved in strange symbols, letters with varying degrees of thickness. It was a far cry from English, but Harry, once he removed the webs, understood it, not remembering a time when he picked up a new language. This was the place that students avoided. The sign gave them an unsettling feeling in their stomach, but not Harry.

The sign said, _For secrets lie behind this wall. Secrets that may kill, that will protect, that will save. There are things that this wall hides no else can find. There are few who will be able to find their way in, but from them, many will come through. Only those of my line and House shall be able to enter._

Harry seemed like that was odd. The sign should have been placed in front of the Slytherin common room if they were the actual contents. An urge rose up in his mind and he touched it.

The stones in the wall seemed to pull away and disappear. Slowly, they formed a tunnel that made sharply made its way down. Seeing that there was no alternative route in his mind (and that he still had 45 minutes till curfew), Harry gathered up his courage, stepping into the tunnel, and sliding down the thing that could only described as a chute. Lights suddenly flared as he plummeted towards the end of the slowly curving chute. Wind rushed through his hair and clothes, causing Harry to become quite cold.

Every so slowly, his descent became less violent. Harry could actually feel his legs again! Seeing that there was an opening up ahead, Harry decided that he was slow enough not to break any of his bones. He braced himself and found himself on a cold stone floor.

* * *

A/N: 02/09/17 Yes, I'm fast forwarding several things. It is an alternate universe and I'll try my best to execute the next chapter in the best manner. Personally, I think that I'm getting better, but hey. I wouldn't know that. Personally, I see McGonagall as fair, yet biased, if you know what I mean. And also for those who can see auras, they are rare, yet, if we add Susan into the mix, we'll have two coming to Hogwarts. Hopefully, this chapter didn't suck.

02/10/17 Rinko22- Thanks, can't believe I didn't catch that.

On an additional note, I'll try to flesh Daphne out.

02/13/17 After the next chapter, I might spend a week or two planning out the future events.


	6. Dead Sisters, Leering Malfoys, Bathrooms

A/N: Starts off in Daphne's POV

I also own nothing other than my thoughts and views. Characters, setting, etc.-anything from the HP universe and other copyrighted material-aren't mine. If so, you'd know my actual name and I'd drown in an excess of money being shoved down my throat. Happy thoughts.

* * *

Daphne could remember the leers of Draco Malfoy and it absolutely nauseated her. The thought of being with him disgusted her to no end with his bad case of acne, his supposed lack of size and the way that he conducted himself. It was nightmarish. How could a girl like Pansy, who was beautiful in her own regards, actually fall for the sorry excuse of a wizard.

The boy didn't even act like a Slytherin. He acted more like a Gryffindor with his blunt remarks and lack of finesse in trying to insult Potter. Actually, that would be considered an insult to Gryffindors because even _they_ , had more finesse than the self-proclaimed Prince of Slytherin. He was unable to use his resources to actually accomplish anything and seemed to see no point in trying to get good marks in school. His lies were sloppy at best and he absolutely had no skill in trying to manipulate a person. Even Hufflepuffs could see through him and they were typically ready accept anyone.

Her thoughts oddly shifted to Potter, the raven haired, green eyed boy. Oh, how he could infuriate her. He could press all of her buttons and _laugh_ instead of cowering like most boys did. It typically increased when she threatened her. Messing up his hair, dropping his books, hexing his bits off. None of her typical techniques would sway him. Yet, they oddly supported each other.

He could only be classified as a puzzle, becoming the top of the class without even trying. He had the skill to crush his competition, but typically did so when necessary. He wore emotions as if they were clothes and always disappeared to who knows where. He was rarely seen through the hallways and always talked about something other than himself. Never once did she hear him talk about life at home nor his parents nor the things that he liked. For the most part, he was a puzzle and Daphne liked to solve puzzles, and it didn't matter that he could be a nuisance and a clown.

Her thoughts, probing dangerous waters, suddenly turned to Astoria and close resemblance between Harry's actions and her sister'. Astoria had been able to give Daphne the best of laughs and the worst of problems. 'It was a talent of hers,' Daphne thought. The key word there being _was._ There was no chance of her coming back. 'No," she mentally chanted. She had to shut the gate, but it was too late. She could feel the tears forming in her eyes and her heart contracting. She could feel all the pain again.

-Flashback-

Her father had been experimenting with volatile ingredients, hoping to discover a cure for his sister's lycanthropy. He could be called a visionary and wanted to make the world a better place. He affiliated himself with the Light, yet never dared to join Dumbledore. He was sorted into Ravenclaw, but despite all of his knowledge, couldn't take care of a family. He consistently shut himself into the basement in their house, leaving permission for his wife to do everything. He had devoted his entire life to finding that particular cure. It was her mother's personal reasons that prevented her from telling him to stop and pursue another line of work.

But he had crossed the line when he had left an experimental potion out in the open. And Astoria was who was the one to test it. She had seen the and drank it, thinking that it was an Invigoration Draught. This was the case as they commonly used said Draught after an extensive bout of exercise as they had other things to do. Of course, they kept in moderation, but Astoria was known to slip a potion or two. After several minutes of taking the potion, Daphne had conveniently come down to see Astoria suffering from the effects. It, years later, still gave her nightmares about it and caused her to shudder when thinking about it.

She could remember Astoria's body spasming violently. It seemed like she would never stop moving as her screams filled the room. She remembered the black tendrils that crawled up her face and down her body. The screams and the sobbing. The way that it seemed Astoria cried for relief without words. Daphne could see the look of shock and horror in her mother's eyes. Her father had tried forcing a bezoar down her throat but it didn't work. Whatever he had created in that lab of his was incurable. Herbs, magic, and everything else didn't seem to work and Daphne could think only of her father's look of defeat and despair. His tears falling down his face, desperately hugging Astoria as if that were to save her. The Aurors had arrived from Mother's summoning only to see Astoria's still body on the kitchen floor. It was too late.

-Flashback ends-

Daphne sat there in that abandoned classroom crying. Life at home was barely manageable with no one else to talk to other than her father and mother. Her father had been an outright bastard, shoving traditional rules and ideas down her throat. Rules and ideas that they had, in his words, 'neglected to acknowledge for the entirety of your life.' He seemed to become detached from the world, utterly devastated by the death of Astoria. He demanded that Daphne be taught how to be a proper lady. He had continuously shouted at her, reaching the point that she tried to run away. But the wards had alerted her father, who restricted her interaction with the outside world. The house that had been a source of joy became her prison and Hogwarts was the only thing that kept him from keeping her hidden from the rest of the world. It seemed like he had plans to auction her off like so many others when she became of age.

Daphne forced herself from that train of thought. She couldn't let herself fall into this pit once again. Crying wouldn't change anything. So, she got up, packed and picked up her books, grabbed her wand, and left the room. A quick _Tergeo_ and precise wand movements were able to clean her face up without drying her eyeballs. A _Tempus_ revealed that it was around 45 minutes until curfew, so she headed towards the Slytherin common room.

Taking the lesser known passages that she had discovered in her free time, she finally reached the common room. Upon reaching the secret passage, she heard something that could only be described as grinding. It was an absolute miracle that no one else heard it, but upon investigating the noise, she simply saw that ill-bidden sign. She felt something ominous from the sign, a voice at the back of her mind telling her that she should leave. And leave she did, feeling thoroughly creeped out. She didn't understand the reason as to why the Professors didn't take it down or vanish it.

Telling the hidden entrance the password, the stone bricks slid away with no sound. It would be telling if the entrance would open with noise. She walked down the steps and headed towards the common room, ignoring the other hallways that led to studies and the dorms. Taking a seat in the common room, she propped up her feet and read until past curfew. This was one of the places where no one would dare attack another for fear of the Head of House Floo'ing down there and dealing of the situation. It seemed as if he could hear everything that went on, according to the stories of the older students. The people in the common room paid her no attention. Well, that was a lie considering the numerous boys that tried to inconspicuously stare at her, her legs, face, and body. After a while, she put the book down and noticed that Potter was missing. An unusual occurrence to say the least, considering that he could typically be found in the common room at and past curfew. But she mentally shrugged, he was probably in his dorms, slipping past her while she was reading.

Slowly, the people in the common room filed back into their respective dorms while she, Daphne stayed there. Eventually, the room was empty and she was the only person left. She couldn't stand Bulstrode And slowly, oh so very slowly, her eyes drooped. Her breathing slowed and she lost consciousness, succumbing to the tendrils of sleep. And so, she stayed there vulnerable to anything and anyone that passed by. But luckily, no one with evil intent was there. Although there was one green eyed wizard that came into the common room. He looked around, satisfied that it was past curfew and noting that Daphne lay sleeping in a chair. He lay the books he had gotten from the Room next to the couches surrounding the fireplace, plopped into the soft cushions, and started to read.

\- Harry Turn! (sing-song voice) -

Sitting in the Slytherin common room, he read the books he had retrieved from the Chamber. They were amazing, containing information of the creation of Hogwarts, spells, and other things that fascinated Harry. He had taken eight or nine books from the many shelves that could be found in the library section of the massive system of rooms and passageways.

From what Harry saw, the entire place had been placed there as a form of secluded study for a very exclusive group. By the time that he had felt the need to get back, Harry was far from the library. Feeling slightly anxious, Harry tried thought of retracing his steps but decided against it. Doing so would only waste time, so Harry. He, in the same way that he sensed the creature underneath, felt something ominous coming from the floor beneath him. When he had reached what he considered the common room, he had heard whispers and mutterings. They spoke of death and promises for revenge to its old Master. Harry practically ran around the Chamber trying to find an exit, and he had found one. He could saw a massive tunnel and dared to say 'Open' as a sign nearby had said. He couldn't bare the feeling that crawled up his back and tormented his mind. Suddenly, the tunnel turned into stairs and Harry, suffering from that poisonous…thing, ran up the stairs for what seemed like his life.

He had found himself in a girl's bathroom, on the second floor. The ghost, Myrtle, he thought, had screamed and ducked for cover. Harry cast a quick _Tempus_ and practically ran at the revelation that he had spent nearly 50 minutes down there without any accurate sense of time. It was completely ludicrous, losing his sense of time within the chambers. He had always held an innate sense of time. Always. Or so he had thought. Was he deluding himself? No, it couldn't be. Such a thing couldn't happen to him.

Harry had slowly and efficiently made his way down to the Slytherin quarters. It was arduous and caused him a great deal of stress. The long, echoey halls and corridors in the castle were disconcerting. He had constantly worried about being caught by Filch or a professor. He was nearly caught by Snape, but quickly ducked into a broom closet. It was miraculous that he had made no noise, and Harry had silently thanked any higher powers. He had reached the wall to the hidden passage and spoke the password, thankful again at the lack of noise.

Harry sat there in the common room, absorbing all of the information that the books held. He understood the theory of each spell and sat there in the common room, learning of something called 'parselmagic.' It was a strange branch, no section of magic of magic. Most of the magic involved in healing was based on intent and the natural affinity that the user had for magic. It said that many wounds could be healed using commands and pushing enough power into it. That didn't seem so hard, until the book had specified that was a level of finesse. It was strange and ambiguous, so Harry decided that he wouldn't try such a thing.

The offensive and defensive magic though was more direct. The books that he had gotten detailed basic disarming and incapacitating spells. Harry could see the benefits of using such magic. Being ambiguous and rare, most didn't know how to defend themselves against the more potent spells. Or at least Harry thought as he didn't get any books that detailed such spells.

Eventually, Harry felt the urge to fall asleep and after another _Tempus_ , decided that he should call it a day. About to walk out of the common room, Harry remembered the prone form of Daphne that lay in that chair. So instead of going to his dorm, he decided that it would be best to sleep on the couch. It was comfortable enough, and Harry didn't want to leave Daphne down here, Professor or not. Securing his bags and wand, he lay down on the couch thinking of the possibilities of the secret system of tunnels he had found.

* * *

A/N: (2/14/17) I'm taking a break from writing to come up with the rest of the plot. Seeing that we are still before the All Hallow's Eve feast, then it could be safe to say that I'm nearly a fifth of the way through. But then, I wouldn't know because I've been writing this on a whim, with vague ideas as to where this should go.

And sorry for rushing the chapter, I wanted to get it out of the way. It also bugged me to no end. I'd say this is a filler chapter and that I badly executed several things and probably botched the entire chapter. Thanks for those who have reviewed and for reading. If you have any ideas as to how I should improve my writing, I'll be waiting. I'm only a 13-year old after all, so things to learn, things to say. Things to improve on before I'm a bratty late pubescent child.

 **Twinklestabber-** I don't want to make an overly powerful character. Harry is displaying a massive interest in the world due to the life he's lived with the Dursleys. I've been planning to convey this, but he only knows basic offensive and defensive spells. _Reducto_ is kind of an in-between, but hey. I'm also not planning for Harry to have a harem.

(02/16/17) No, I'm around a fifth of the way through the first year.

(02/21/17) Updates will come slowly. I wish I'd speed up, but my muse and inspiration has been running quite low. I _won't_ come up with a detailed plan. NOTE: THIS WILL LOOSLEY FOLLOW THE EVENTS IN THE BOOK(S).


	7. A Shriek From the Bathrooms

Harry woke up, feeling slightly tired from everything. His 'adventure' into the Chambers had apparently been taxing on his body, although it didn't feel like that during the early morning. Slowly, he got up and glanced around, hearing the fire still crackling lively, and saw that Daphne had left. Accepting the fact that she saw him lying here, he cast a quick _Tempus_ and started to mentally plan his day as he made his way towards the dorms. At 5:00 a.m., the halls were oddly warm and logically empty. Most didn't wake up at that time, other than the house elves, as they were incapable of doing such a thing. Although there were several who did, as Harry had assumed, few actually ventured out into the castle.

The first thing that entered his mind was the Mirror of Erised and he inwardly cringed at his actions, knowing that he had cursed at the _Headmaster._ It was a miracle that points were not taken off and detention hadn't been administered.

Forcing his mind from that line of thought, his mind shifted to the things that he had learned from the books. Parselmagic seemed to be based upon wand movements. There were no chants, no long strings of ancient words. One would say the word in 'parseltongue' and move the wand as the book depicted. The vast majority of the offensive wand movements were minimal with that entire spell branch being based upon the idea of casting as fast and deadly as one can. It was a precise, rapid art, being lethal when necessary.

The defensive spells were unusual, to say the least. One of the authors had experimented with the _Protego_ charm and discovered that saying the incantation in the tongue of the snakes had the ability to create a stronger shield. There were other spells in Parseltongue that created shields, of course. These shields seemed to be quite easy to cast and, from the notes, effectively shielded against most spells.

With all of this, Harry was determined not to let anyone know about these spells until it was necessary, whether in a duel or in a fight. They would be able to give him an edge in the fight, catching his opponent unaware.

As he walked down the halls, heading towards the Great Hall, he noticed a figure that seemed to be headed to the greenhouses. Neville, Harry presumed.

Neville was a chubby boy with slightly buck-like teeth and short, straight brown hair. From what he could see, he had a severe problem with confidence. He cowered under the gaze of Professor McGonagall and sweat whenever things started to become slightly hostile whether towards him or another.

In the few weeks that he had been at the school, he had seen and heard of the things that the other had done to mock and put Neville down. They bullied him for his inability, forcing him to go barefoot many times. They stole his stuff, shouted at him, cursed at him, and sent hexes. Some even sent the hex for pimples at him, causing a horrid batch of pimples to appear on his face. It was disgusting. Other than that, they tried their best to sabotage his academic work, 'accidentally' spilling ink over his work and stealing his quills. They constantly sent tripping jinxes towards his way while they knocked his books over and over. It was ridiculous.

The teachers, who must have noticed something, said nothing. They didn't seem to know of it and Neville was too scared of the others to go to the teacher. Countless times, Harry saw Neville running off, crying. In the mornings, Neville constantly looked backed, watching for threats to him as he headed towards the greenhouses. Harry couldn't do anything about it due to the fear of sullying his reputation with the Slytherins. Normally, he would have despite the thoughts of others. But he had learned from Daphne in between the classes that his reputation was legendary and held the ability to influence the people around him. It wouldn't do to further destroy that reputation by being seen with the Gryffindor outcast.

His train of thought was broken when he saw Daphne sitting there, an emotional mask on her face. Harry, surprised at her behavior, went to sit down across of her. There was a reason as to why she was acting like this.

"You slept in the common room," Daphne said softly, not touching the plate of bacon in front of her.

"Yes, yes I did."

"Why?"

Is that was what this is all about? About the fact that he wanted to make sure no one could touch her?

"Because...you were alone in the common room, vulnerable."

"Yet, you didn't do anything," she said suspiciously.

"Why would I? I respect you, your personal space, and everyone else's. Except Malfoy's. He's a git."

"Good answer Potter," she said, something unrecognizable flooding her face. She started to eat her food.

A plate appeared in front of Harry and he started to eat as well. It was silent, the Great Hall, with the two of them eating. There was no one else in there to break the silence at around 5:30 in the morning. It couldn't be described as awkward, but then, it wasn't necessarily comfortable.

Harry, in a conversational tone, asked a rather boring question in a slightly tense situation. "How are you?"

"Good," she responded, mentally searching for a topic and shoving a spoonful of egg into her mouth. When she swallowed, she decided to ask a question, but Harry beat her to it.

"What was up with that? The sudden level of suspicion?" Harry asked, chewing a piece of bacon and addressing the elephant in the room.

"Well, I had to know your intentions. We're not exactly friends."

"Aren't we?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.

"We are?" Daphne hesitantly asked.

"Well I thought..." Harry trailed off, unsure whether or not to continue

"Then in that case…Friends," Daphne said with slight hesitation.

"But not like Blaise?" Harry asked smiling, knowing that he was entering dangerous territory.

A faint blush entered Daphne's cheeks. "Damn it Harry! We have nothing going on between the two of us." She tried to adopt a serious look, quite spectacularly failed.

"Are you sure? I thought I heard that you were snogging in one of the broom closets?" Harry was loving this. He was suicidal.

Daphne's face turned extremely red. "We did not!"

"Then why are you blushing?" He raised his eyebrow again, discreetly pulling out his wand.

"Merlin! You. Are. So. Infuriating," she said, pulling out her wand and emphasizing each word with a jab.

Cheekily, Harry smiled. "I know."

With that Daphne sent hexes and jinxes of all sorts, and Harry dodged, conjuring shields when necessary. His laughter echoed throughout the Hall. They talked until the sun started to rise, leaving when they realized that they would be seen together.

It was annoying, rumors and things of that sort as they seemed to fizzle into existence, taking hold of minds.

Slowly, Harry went back to his dorms, knowing full well that there were people in the halls. After reaching the common room, he approached the doors to his dorm, which opened to the lovely sight of Draco Malfoy.

"Well, well," the ferret drawled. "Where were you last night, Potter?"

"Somewhere over there."

"A straight answer Potter," he demanded.

"Over the rainbow," Harry replied, smirking.

"What?" Draco was completely confused.

"Leave Harry alone Malfoy," came a voice to the left.

Malfoy seemed to bite back a retort, retreating under the gaze of the boys.

Blaise was already up, dressed and ready for the rest of the day. He approached Harry.

"Up already?"

"Obviously."

"When _do_ you get up?"

"Early in the morning." Harry smiled

"Will I get a satisfactory answer?"

"No," his smile became wider. "What do you want?"

"Notes for the History of Magic."

"Of course," Harry sighed. "You know, I think Hermione and me are the only two who are able to stay awake in class. Even Daphne falls asleep."

"I think that you are the only two in the past 50 years who have been able to stay awake during that class," Blaise said, smirking.

"Thank you," Harry trailed off in a hesitant tone, not knowing whether to take it or not. "Are you comfortable with _Draconifors_ spell _?"_

"Good enough. That was a fun class."

"Yes, it certainly was…" Harry trailed off for the second time, thinking about yesterday.

-Flashback—

It was the first class of the day and a significant number of the class was still bleary eyed and excessively yawning.

'Merlin, couldn't these people at least try to wake up and wash their face?' Harry mentally asked, annoyed by all the unnecessary noise that was being made.

As the door opened, students filed in, seeing Professor McGonagall sitting at her desk and the massive chalkboard was divided into two sections.

As everyone took their seats, Professor McGonagall stood up and called for the class' attention. "I have decided to divide this class into two groups." This caused a slight murmur. "Half of you will continue working on the lessons that are for first years while the other half will work on Transfiguration meant for second and third years. Wait," she then said, wanting to stop the protests. "The reason as to why I am doing this is because half of you have shown that you are able to handle the rigor of taking advanced classes and the other half, while showing merit, has not made any effort to get grades higher than an A even though I promised that they would miss a significant number of their classes. Now, if you will draw your attention to the board…"

And so the class did. Of 30 students, the 15 who stayed behind included 8 boys and 7 girls while the other 15 was the opposite—with Harry, Blaise, Finch-Fletchley, and four other boys. Those in the first group looked jealous but said nothing. Professor McGonagall's time seemed to be divided into two sections. The first part of the class was for those learning the original curriculum while the rest looked at their textbooks and started to practice the wand movements. When she was done with those stuck with the original curriculum, the professor moved on to teach the other half, allowing them to try out the _Draconifors_ spell.

As a result, there were many cups and statues of snakes flying around with tiny dragon wings or stumbling around on stubby scaled legs. Only Harry and Susan, who he was partnered with, were able to create actual dragons. She was smiling at the end of that, and, Harry decided, that was a good thing.

Harry was busy helping the others in his class when Susan slipped a note into his pocket. There seemed to be a lot of note slipping in this school with students needing to uphold their reputation. Sadly, it seemed that rumors popped up around him on a consistent basis. He wished that he could have a life where all of this Boy-Who-Lived nonsense could stop. Leaving Blaise, he started to pack his things, knowing that it wasn't time to go yet. But the professor called him to his desk.

"Mr. Potter," she started. "You've done a magnificent job helping your peers, so I would say 5 points to Slytherin. I would venture to say that you'd make a good teacher. If you would like, I could teach you a few things that the books don't tell the reader."

"Yes," Harry said, "I would like that."

"Then meet me here on Sunday, if you don't have any religious beliefs."

"Thank you, Professor," he said turning away.

-So Ends the Flashback—

Upon later inspection, the note was a poem titled 'Nightmares.' It was well-written to say the least.

"Harry?" Blaise asked, knowing full well that Harry was thinking of something.

"Oh, yeah…sorry."

"See you later."

"Goodbye."

Harry slipped into his bed and slept, reclaiming the previous night he had spent working on homework.

A Week or Two Later

It was Hallowe'en and Harry absolutely refused to go down into the Great Hall despite the threat that Snape shot at him and Dumbledore coming to his dorm in person with the help of a phoenix. They had both asked him to go up to the All Hallows' Eve Feat, and they both gave up when he talked about his parents, understanding his grief. Snape seemed sad, emotion flooding his face at his words while Dumbledore seemed to age in an instant, his face looking his age.

Harry, in one word, was miserable. He could remember his mother's screams, the horrid things that Voldemort had done to his parents. It was both a curse, his dreams, as he remembered his mother's screams that pierced his ears. He could see her body writhing in pain, his father lying dead in the hallway with a blank look on his face. He could remember them so vividly as if by magic, and the memory had plagued him for the past few days. He spent nights simply studying, trying to keep his mind distracted. It was a futile effort with the need to sleep overpowering his want to work.

Today, though, was extraordinarily painful. Everyone celebrated the death of fucking Voldemort and expected him to jump for joy at the sacrifice of his parents. He knew that this would pass, remembering the times with the Dursleys when he suffered the dreams. It always did. It had to.

So, Harry, finishing the books that he had, went back into the Chambers. 'I could call it the Secret Chambers,' Harry mused, thinking of the way that he had to keep the chambers a secret. 'Or the Chamber (Chambers?) of Secrets. On another note, could actually have a name. I'd better research it, maybe ask Professor Binns. He _is_ the Professor for the History of Magic.'

Descending into the madness of passages, Harry decided that it would be best to explore the rooms and passages _after_ grabbing new books, returning the old ones. When he had finished shoving the books into his bags, he set off, oddly not feeling the fear he had felt last time. The passages required a continuous _Lumos_ as there were no torches to light with an _Incendio_ and it wasn't possible for him to conjure a torch, one composed of various materials. He wasn't there yet and that was annoying. Willing the light to become a slight hue of orange, his surroundings were suddenly bathed in an orange light. He discovered a study tucked away in a corner that was filled with notes and what seemed like journals placed on a shelf. Taking the first one, Harry decided to start reading it back in his dorm. Leaving, he discovered something that resembled a room for practicing spells, dorms, and a personal bedroom. He made his way towards the first chamber which held the closest exit, and oddly, he was able to retrace his steps from weeks before. That was another inexplicable thing, perhaps magic was able to improve one's memory. 'Maybe,' Harry mused. 'Probably not because of the way that students at this school forget things, save for a select few.'

Harry, willing himself to speak 'the language of the serpents,' shouted "OPEN," at the tunnel. The statue, behind him, seemed quite impressive. He could possibly scale the thing and read up there, although the draft and height might be a bit too much. His thoughts being blown away as the final step made a soft _click_ , Harry bounded up the steps. Hoping that the opening of the passage was silent, he stepped out into the girl's bathroom and the exit, or entrance, closed behind him. Slowly, he made his way down the stairs, thankful that he had memorized the passages that didn't move. He could hear the clamor of Great Hall and saw Professor Quirrell step in, sweating and jerking slightly.

He walked past the massive oaken doors once they closed and heard the cry of "TROLL IN THE DUNGEONS!"

Damn. He couldn't go back into his dorms. As a result, he started heading towards the library, knowing full well that Madam Pince had a system in charge for those wanting to check books out. As he was heading there, he heard lumbering footstep and a shriek from the girl's bathrooms. He ran.

* * *

A/N: Hopefully I didn't move too fast at the end. Thanks for reading. And if a person wants to beta read my chapters (not the entire story) then go PM me (probably using the term incorrectly). Life is busy, essays, homework, and other stuff. You should understand the implications of that. Originally, I had intended for Harry to start in his third year, or fourth, wanting to use his abilities, relationships, and access the Chamber. But this works out just fine. I probably messed up the paragraph after the final transition, but I think (not feel nor know) that I did my best.

Once again, if anyone has tips for me, then go right ahead and write your thoughts out. I **will** update, only sporadically. And updates for this story will come in between those of the other one.

 **Smutley-Do-Wrong** : That makes sense. His suicide was actually in an earlier draft of the chapter. But I decided against it, for some odd reason. I guess I used the excuse of 'death changes you' and tried to emphasize the impact of his change, and probably failed. I'm trying _not_ to use that many cliches. And on a separate note, I am a _very_ contradictory person.


	8. A Modified Banishing Charm

A/N: Sorry for the delay. Life and stuff. Especially those accursed essays. I'll try to update in the span of two or three weeks.

* * *

-Daphne's POV—

Harry was on her mind knowing full well that he had stayed behind for the Feast. Hell, half of the first-year Slytherins knew that. Although, unlike her, they didn't know why. It was obvious: his parents. The moment that she had thought of that, she started to eat less. She couldn't stomach the fact that she was celebrating the death of his parents. They had sacrificed their lives, his life, and his chance at having a true family. True, any friends would probably do a brilliant job, but Daphne knew from Tracey's rants that it wasn't the same thing. The brunette had longed for her own parents, having heard of them so much from relatives, and Harry was constantly reminded by the professors (especially Snape) of his parents. Some would say from time to time, "You remind me of your mother. She was brilliant at…" or others would say, "You know, you are like your father who was a prodigy at this." She could see the pain in his eyes, no matter what expression he was wearing.

That's why Daphne's heart lurched when the sorry excuse for a professor barged into the Great Hall and shouted "TROLL IN THE DUNGEONS!" She knew that she had to get to Harry. The only question was how. With the Hall rendered silent and most staring at the unconscious form of the professor, she couldn't do a thing and get away with it. So, she nudged Blaise and quickly whispered her predicament. It seemed that Blaise could do something with his wide range of favors and contacts. She was right, although it was unconventional. He dug his hand into the bag that he carried around everywhere and pulled out a cloak, discreetly. He then slipped it into her hand. How convenient.

Slowly, she draped the cloak over her shoulders, ready to flip the hood over as she had done so many times before to sneak around the house. She felt a sense of nostalgia, but she squashed it. She couldn't break down in front of e entire school. Slowly and carefully, she made her way towards the doors of the Great Hall, which were still open from the professor's activities, and somehow slipped out undetected. She heard a crash and started to run.

-Harry's POV-

Harry was confident in his ability to handle the troll. After all, he had been studying a massive plethora of magic, knowing spells and concepts for around the next two years with a few complex spells that would be covered in the future years and spells that involve parseltongue. He assumed that several _Reducto_ s would be able to stop the troll. That was the one thought that encompassed his mind as he sprinted towards the girl's bathroom, barely breathing heavily as he sprinted. His feet thudded on the hard stone floor, something that would definitely ruin the knees of students. But currently, Harry was concerned with the wellbeing of the girl in the bathroom.

He knew the spells that he would use the moment that he saw the troll. He had to know else the girl would probably be dead.

Trolls, from the books that he had read, were omnivores. They would eat fruits of all sorts in massive amounts, small animals, larger animals, and…humans. There had been numerous recorded deaths caused by trolls that were supposedly hungry. There had been a girl by the name of Jennifer in one of the books Harry read. She was a muggle who was scavenging for food, and from the reports, it seemed like she had been killed by a troll. There were inexplicably massive footprints around the area while there were records of miniscule amounts of magical residue that was often secreted by magical creatures. Nearby magical practioners heard of the rumours and checked the site out and the surrounding areas, and they found a camp that was typical of trolls. That was the first recorded account of man-eating trolls. There were also a massive number of similar accounts for those in mountains, isolated areas, and similar places, as well as during the first Wizarding War. Voldemort had apparently allied himself with the trolls, promising entire villages to them in return for support against the 'Light' wizards.

Slowly, he entered the girl's bathroom, dust in the air and the floor covered in a thin sheen of water from the pipes. The wand in his hand glowed with the pale blue light of the spell, ready to be released the moment the words were spoken. Oddly, Harry couldn't help himself from imaging that there was a single violin playing an eerie, unsettling tune. He could feel the sweat gushing down his nape and the uneasy breaths he was taking, adrenaline pumping through his veins from the anticipation of the encounter with the troll. He could hear footsteps thudding at the far end of the bathroom with an odd scraping noise and cautiously, he made his way towards the noise. All of a sudden, there was a sudden crash at one end of the bathroom and a shriek.

Abandoning his sense of self-preservation, Harry ran towards the noise in the abnormally large bathroom. He took in the scene for a brief second. The stalls were reduced to useless piles of rubble, water gushing out of places where toilets once stood. He saw a girl with bushy brown hair struggling as a troll hoisted her up in the air. What was Hermione doing here? She should have been in the Great Hall, feasting and enjoying the day that his parents had died, not being the meal of a hungry troll that inexplicably made its way into the castle.

That was when it hit him. She could easily die and it was a miracle that she was still alive considering that this was a troll and the club had smashed into the stalls. It had been some sort of fantasy up to this point. Learning about spells, dangerous creatures, and things of the sort. It seemed so far from life when in fact, there had been a Wizarding War like the Sorting Hat had mentioned.

Something in Harry snapped. He suddenly felt all of the pain from the past few years. He could feel his anger bubbling over the cauldron that he had so carefully maintained. This was his friend that the creature was putting in danger. With that last thought any form of self-control was lost.

Harry's magic rolled around him in waves as it had in Ollivander's shop. He could feel his instincts take over. He sent a _Reducto_ at the hand that was holding Hermione and a dark purple spell he had picked up from one of the books in the library. Hermione fell on the wet stone floor, her robes soaked, while the troll screamed a guttural scream that made her hair stand on end.

The curse that Harry had sent was one that caused massive internal damage and bleeding, causing most of its organs to rupture. It would eventually lead death but not without inflicting pain for a minute or two.

The troll's screams died down and its movements stopped, as Harry and Hermione stared at it. Harry had killed a troll, something that would typically take two or three wizards, in the span of two spells. It was odd, as if he somehow knew what spells he needed to take down the creature.

"Harry?" Hermione's voice cut through the silence, carrying a heavy dose of fear.

Something in Harry returned. He looked back at the corpse, at Hermione, and at the wand shaking in his hand. Hermione looked at him with fear in her eyes. And despite all of his instincts, he started to walk towards her, wand put away. He sat down next to her, back against the wall and his legs wet.

Slowly, he overcame his own fears and hugged her, allowing her to sob into his chest. He was scared. It was a new sensation. But he oddly liked it, even though some odd part of him felt that it was wrong. That it should be someone else. He ignored it.

-Daphne POV—

Daphne had arrived at the bathrooms the moment the spell's effects took place. She saw Hermione's look of fear and the way that Harry's hands shook. She looked on in disgust as the troll died a painful death from Harry's spell. The sense of efficiency that Harry had was fascinating. He had always been the gentleman of the class, though slightly aggressive and sarcastic. He was brutally efficient and honest in class, but not to this extent. And where had he learned that last spell? Was it something that could be found in the restricted section of the library?

She could feel concern rising up, she needed to break him out of the stupor. But she found that she couldn't. She found herself instinctively afraid of what he could do no matter what her mind told her. This was a predator and she was its prey, no matter the fact that she preyed upon others. Harry was stronger than anyone his age.

She silently watched under her invisibility cloak as Harry approached Hermione and allowed her to sob onto her shoulders. She saw him hug the brown-haired girl and felt a pang of envy. She could feel her heart twisting and crushed it. She wanted someone to do that to her, to let her cry and pour her heart out without judgement. It was something that she wanted so badly that it hurt her heart. From what her father had said, she was probably going to be contracted so fat chance that would happen. But he did retain his sense of morals despite everything, so it could be otherwise. But the probability of finding the right person was practically impossible with the contract. Unless…

No, he was her friend. She couldn't manipulate him. She wouldn't manipulate him. She couldn't live with it. It was against everything that she stood for. Now, if she could manage to get her mother to remind her father, life would be better. Mother hadn't tried to do anything after the incident out of her own pain. After al-

'Were those footsteps?' Daphne thought, whirling around and careful not to make a sound. Yes, they were. In fact, three pairs of footsteps. Three shadows loomed near the corner of the corridor, and as they turned, it was apparent who they belonged to.

Professor McGonagall was muttering under her breath while Professor Snape was silent, taking in the entire situation. Professor Dumbledore seemed unconcerned, probably knowing of what transpired. Quickly, they made their way towards the girl's bathrooms as the Head of the Gryffindorks wrung her hands.

And oddly, they stopped with Dumbledore staring at her. But that was impossible. This was _Blaise's_ invisibility cloak. Something that was guaranteed to be high-quality with all the money that his mother had, from killing her husbands. There shouldn't be a way that Dumbledore should be able to see through her invisibility cloak without a trinket of any sort. And yet, here he was staring directly into her eyes.

"Albus?" Professor McGonagall asked. "What are you staring at?"

"Nothing Minerva. Nothing at all," he responded softly, as if in awe of something. "Let's move on."

And the trio, along with Daphne, moved towards the pair of preteens who were still sitting at the far end of the bathroom. Harry was muttering something to Hermione who then nodded.

"My, what happened here Harry?" Dumbledore asked, his twinkling eyes dimming as he took more and more of the situation in.

"Sir, uh…the troll here, attacked Hermione. I heard crashes as I walked closer to the Great Hall, so I went and investigated. I came upon the troll holding Hermione and I killed it."

"Goodness," McGonagall exclaimed. "With what?"

"A well placed Reductor and a modified banishing charm."

The feline Professor raised an elegant eyebrow in disbelief. "That would explain the missing arm, but a modified banishing charm?"

Harry was doing a magnificent job at covering his actual actions up. "Yes, I had discovered a method to modify spells in the library and modified the spell so that it would send a shockwave through the body."

"Which apparently killed the troll," McGonagall finished.

"And, my boy, the more intriguing question," the headmaster began. "What were you doing out of the Slytherin section of the castle? Not that it was wrong, but I had thought that you had said you'd stay there."

"About that…" Harry started, oddly sheepish. "I decided that it would be best to go to the library, books and all that."

"Ah, I know the feeling my boy. Now Ms. Granger, what were you doing in the bathrooms?"

Hermione still had tears flowing down her eyes, albeit slower. "I-I had wanted to go after the troll."

"I find that hard to believe Ms. Granger," Dumbledore said, catching her in the lie. "No one had left the Great Hall after the announcement of Professor Quirrel. I had prevented them from going to their Common Rooms in fear of being attacked by the troll." This is where his voice turned soft. "But, it's quite okay if you tell the truth. We won't judge you."

"O-okay," Hermione said, embarrassed.

'Well, I have to give it to the Headmaster,' Daphne thought. 'Using her respect of authority to glean information. It was probably his experience in politics and logic that told him something was afoot. Bravo.'

Hermione continued. "R-ron Weasley h-had said that I have no friends and that Harry was using me."

"And this led to your arrival in the bathrooms for the entirety of the Feast?"

"Yes sir."

Oddly, Professor Snape hadn't said a thing.

"Well, then we'd best be off, shan't we?" the Headmaster said after a moment of thought. " But I do have to address points. Fifty points to Slytherin for helping and protecting a fellow student from another House and for making short work of the troll. Two points from Ravenclaw for lying."

"And detention with Hagrid tomorrow for unnecessarily killing a creature, Mr. Potter. The same for you, Ms. Granger, for telling a lie," Professor McGonagall said, obviously deciding that killing anything should be met with consequences. Though the reasoning was unfair.

"Five points to Ravenclaw for mustering the courage to tell the truth," Professor Snape suddenly said.

Daphne's mouth dropped. Never once did the Head of Slytherin award a student for something as Gryffindor as courage. Everyone else looked at him in shock, well, just the Professors and Harry. Hermione didn't care.

If possible, the twinkling in Dumbledore's eyes became increasingly intense. "As I've said before, we'd best be off. Harry, my boy, would you mind accompanying Ms. Granger to the Ravenclaw tower?"

"Not at all sir," Harry said, shaken out of his surprised state. He slowly, helped the Ravenclaw up, taking some care with her fragile state as the professors exited the bathroom. Suddenly, Hermione wrapped her arms around Harry.

"Thank you!" she breathed. She then pushed herself away in embarrassment, surprised at her actions.

"You're welcome," Harry slowly said, obviously trying to compose himself.

They left the bathroom and Daphne followed suit, making sure not to make a noise.

* * *

A/N: So, there are a few things to address. Love triangle, although fun, would be quite annoying for my mind which is currently incapable to create a three-way relationship _realistically_ as it hasn't had the experience of such a thing.

 **Invisibility Cloak:** Then there's the idea of invisibility cloaks. Think of it like this. Magic takes in the surrounding area and transmits it to the outer side of the cloak, rendering it invisible. Sure, a person would be able to hear the sound the wearer makes, but any disturbance shouldn't exist unless you're in the light (i.e. standing in a field, outside against the wall). For those concerned with the noise that Daphne made when walking through the layer of water on the bathroom, you can attribute the characters' inability to hear it to the gushing pipes caused by the troll.

 **Spells:** Now there's the concern for the spells that Harry uses. I am not making Harry OP. Well, slightly, but he hasn't reached maturity, so his magical capabilities are still 'limited' as a first-year. With this being said, take in consideration the way that he accesses knowledge. It is a _Slytherin_ facility, and though I don't like subjecting things to stereotypes, there were bound to be creative curses in there somewhere. Slytherin had to build a reputation as a dark House for a reason. There's also a little something in Harry's mind called a Horcrux, so Voldemort's plethora of knowledge should bleed, albeit only in small amounts, into Harry's mind. The same goes for personality, but it seems like Harry's doing a mighty fine job at living a life of good. For now [cue evil laugh]. But nothing's definite.

 **Daphne:** This section is mainly devoted to her father. Think of it like this, as Astoria was Daphne's sister, then his father would want to get rid of her as she reminds her of Astoria. But that doesn't mean that he would do something in an inhumane way. It would probably be to someone who would be able to take care of her. Properly. I haven't written that yet, but for those wanting to point that odd sentence or two out, I have it incomprehensibly sorted out-meaning that in my head, it makes sense, but if put on paper, it's incomprehensible.

 **Updates:** Slightly sporadic, but I'd at least like to update in two weeks, three at max. I've mentioned this and I'm an idiot. But oh well.

Oooooh. There's also drafts of this chapter where Harry is bloodthirsty and kills the troll miserably (each in a separate draft) with an Organ Rupturing spell, a spell which creates millions of cuts, and a spell that bores thousands of holes into the victim, just to let you know. I'm weird like that.

"A Fine Spot of Trouble" is pretty good, from my point of view, but what does that matter? (6257522) - For those who don't know, that's the story ID. Just plug it into the URL.

And that's all folks. You know what that means. Studying. I also did the best that I could and I'm trying new things.

And please review! It helps when writing.


	9. Dreams and Overprotective People

A/N: You should know that this chapter is the day after.

* * *

Dreams are a terribly amazing thing. It can reveal a person's wants and shape the future. It can lead to certain things. For Harry, it was pure agony.

-Dreaming—

Harry could hear its laughter. It was the only thing the _thing_ did. Laugh. Its eyes were hollowed out like that of skulls, and yet, life still danced merrily in its eyes despite its affiliation with death. Its teeth glistened in some unseen light. There was only darkness in the background. Then her screams started to reach his ears. They were so clear, so pristine, that it sickened him to the stomach. He recalled them so perfectly.

"No! Not Harry!" Her voice said, rushing in front of him. Slowly, Harry saw her body encased in that horrid green light, spouting from the creature's hands. It sucked the light out of her eyes, and she dropped to the ground. Harry could feel the tears forming in his eyes. The room around him was in shambles, walls scorched by what seemed like burns while the curtains were torn. The flooring was ripped up by some unseen force while there lay a figure there, prone and unmoving. The man's eyes, the dead man that lay on the floor, were a shade of mesmerising chocolate brown. They seemed to suck Harry into them.

But then, Harry heard two specific words. _AVADA KEDAVRA._ There was that beam of death again, sickly and seemingly to form a caduceus. Not once did it stop, not once did they start. They simply remained there as the thing started to head towards him. He could remember feeling darkness encase him as the sickly green light hit his chest.

Slowly, the room shifted into an all too familiar place. It was dark and claustrophobic. The air around him stunk of piss and shit. Harry sat there with his clothes tattered and the rough wood rubbing against his skin, creating splinters. He lay there with blood caked his arms, its metallic taste in his mouth. He could feel the slimy blobs and the fluid. He agonisingly made his way towards the threadbare pillows in the corner. He couldn't know whether it was day or night. How many days had he spent locked in here? How many nights? He could hear the thuds of their steps, the figures flickering outside. The light was the only thing that told him that life was still well. That they hadn't left.

All of a sudden, he could hear voices, hundreds them screaming at him. He had begged them to stop, to stop shouting. He cried out, desperately, feeling them overtake him no matter how hard he tried. He couldn't get them out of his mind. They all screamed at him, calling him _"FREAK."_ They came from all directions, hitting him, destroying his mind. It felt as if they were tearing his apart, slowly pulverising each tendon in his body. And suddenly, they disappeared as suddenly as they came. Slowly, they turned into figures.

"Where is he?!" a voice shouted. It was Dudley. He was shouting at his group, shouting so that they could find him and beat him. Harry ran in the wood, seeing all of the shadows looming over him. He felt scared, spears of pain and fear piercing his heart. The wind blew around him, causing the branches to violently sway and the leaves to rustle. His feet thudded on the hard ground, twigs cracking under his weight. Suddenly, he heard them. They seemed to close in like wolves stalking their prey. He could hear screams in the distance, buildings burning.

Quickly the scene changed into that of war. He could see the bodies of his friends being hung like the people in the Bones' residence. Daphne's wrists and ankles were pierced by iron spikes, spread on the wall. Blood oozed out of her wounds. The same was for Hermione, Blaise, Susan, and Tracey. `

Suddenly, Harry was running into the grinning face of Vernon. His face contorted in the unnatural expression, each hair moving as if they were their own arms. He could see the savage glint in the Walrus' deathly black eyes. At a moment's notice, there were bats, paddles, pans, and all sorts of other things that attacked Harry. They hit him hard, causing welts to immediately form and the pain to increase that Harry was reduced to nothing but a muttering wreck. As the darkness took him again, he saw the Giraffe.

She seemed nice enough despite the smug look and haughty face. But her eyes betrayed her. They were filled with a boiling anger that spilt out and burnt Harry who had woken just in time to feel the pain. He screamed as the water poured all over him. Slowly, the water subsided, only for the Horse to open her mouth. Out came spiders of all sorts. Many were massive while hundreds were small, all nightmarishly silent.

They covered Harry's entire body, causing him to writhe in pure and utter disgust. He could feel the thousands of feet crawling over him.

And Harry woke up.

-Transition-

Harry's eyes snapped open. He felt the sweat that coated his skin, the wet bedsheets, and registered the peaceful breathing of his roommates. Apparently, it was still night, or it was early in the morning. Harry fumbled for his wand, grabbing his glasses in the process. Quickly, he cast a _Tempus._ It was 5:00 am. Slowly, Harry got up, his head throbbing. He unrobed himself and cast a quick _Scourgify_ on them, causing them to dry instantly.

'All I have to do is drop them in the laundry bin and wait a couple minutes,' Harry thought. He opened his trunk and took out several of his clothes, clothes from Madam Malkin, and made his way towards the bathrooms.

There were bathrooms in each dorm and they were sterile. Tile was used for the flooring and the walls. It was composed of three separate rooms, one devoted to changing, another entirely for showers, tubs, sinks, and stuff like that while the final room was for toilets. It was a castle after all.

Harry went into the showers, leaving his clothes on a hanging rack, and turned on the hot water. It flowed down him, creating a mist that rose, trapped in the enclosed space. Quickly, the air around him was clouded. Harry could feel his mind being torn apart. It felt like someone was starting to set fire to his mind. It was happening again, and Harry was scared again. He felt like the small little child he had been before the books. He was the beaten child, the child that was being destroyed by the monsters he lived with.

He focused on the pain of the hot water. Pain. It was something that he became intimately familiar with. It had often rushed over him like a fire. But now, he let it envelop him, welcoming it like an old friend. It sent shivers of pleasure down his spine. Oh, how he loved to have control over his pain. He could feel Pain encasing him in his own bubble, causing the voices to stop. It caused him to slowly calm down, the water flowing down his back. The mental fires were being put out, and for that Harry was grateful. He felt all of his figurative little papers going back into their appropriate folders. His mind was being organised once again. He could feel his mental barriers return.

He got out of the shower after quite some time. He dressed once again, loving the way that acromantula silk felt on his skin, and made his way out of the dorms with a pair of leather shoes that were charmed to grip the floor as well as a top-of-the-line pair of sneakers. He made no noise whatsoever. It was eerily silent as he walked down the halls.

Finally, he reached the common room and there in the centre was a floating piece of parchment. It read, _'As per tradition, there shall be no classes today.'_

Harry, upon reading this, was entirely happy. Then he remembered the detention. It was worth it, killing the creature to save Hermione's life. But could he have been able to subdue it? No, it was impossible for the required spells to even penetrate the skin and take effect.

He wanted to _destroy_ that creature. Mercy wasn't an option when dealing with threatening creatures.

'Of course,' Harry thought, moving over to the fireplace, 'when I deal with sentient beings like Vampires and Veela, then there should always be the option to deal with them. I'm not one of those Pureblood supremacists.'

Slowly, Harry sat down in front of the fireplace and meditated. He lost himself in his mind, allowing it to drift as his breathing slowed and his sensory input from the rest of the world diminished. It was a hard feeling to described, entering a sense of calm. He was at rest, feeling all of his thoughts disperse. He could feel his mental barriers strengthening. The fire softly crackled and its heat were the two things that he processed. These things were his world, nothing else. His purpose in life was to listen to the fire and feel the heat.

He was in the middle of his meditation when he heard a soft feminine voice ask, "Meditating Harry?"

Slowly, he opened his eyes and smiled. It was Daphne. "Yes," was his only answer.

"Can you help me with something?" She asked.

Harry got up, ignoring the pain his legs, and turned around, looking at her. On an impulse, he quickly cast a _Tempus._ It was 6:30 a.m. "With what?" Harry asked, confident that after this, he'd be able to take a short trip into the Chambers.

"Potions."

"Of course," Harry said, slightly sighing.

"What's your price?" she asked, reaching for a bag that was slung over her shoulders.

Harry motioned her to stop. "Just future favour."

Daphne asked hesitantly, "What kind of favour?"

The wizard made a placating gesture. "Merlin, you know that I'm not like that. Just a small favour. Maybe a prank, notes, books. Nothing serious."

Daphne smiled sheepishly. "Sorry Harry. I'm just suspicious when a _boy_ asks that."

"Understandable."

There was a pause and Harry didn't move.

"So…should we get started?" Daphne asked after a few seconds, confused by his lack of motion.

"Have you gotten breakfast yet?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.

She shook her head.

"Then there's your answer. Let's go to the Great Hall. Can't work on an empty stomach."

"Oh," was her only response, further confused by his lack of...action.

They made their way towards the Great Hall, the passages containing only a few people. For the most part, they walked in silence, each trying to find a topic to talk about. About halfway, Harry asked, "How are you?"

Daphne immediately answered, "Good, life's good. How about you?"

Harry, oddly, was surprised. "Me? Fairly good. Anything noteworthy happen?"

"Hmm…" Daphne fell deep into thought as they continued to approach the Hall. "My dad," she suddenly blurted, immediately cursing herself.

"Your father? What about him?" Harry was confused.

"Err…" Daphne hesitated, regretting that she brought up the matter.

"A bit too late to stop, isn't it?" the wizard said, smiling with an eye brow raised and eyes sparkling in curiosity.

Daphne sighed. "He's…been, well, err…" She hesitated once again. "He left."

"He left?" Harry asked, not believing her for a second.

"We shouldn't be discussing this, Harry. At least not here," Daphne said starting to sweat at her mistake.

"Yet you brought it up," He countered.

The witch scowled in frustration.

The wizard backed off, saying, "Then, later."

Daphne was grateful. "Thanks."

They were silent for a while before Daphne asked, "So, you killed the troll?"

"Yes." His answer was curt.

"Any details?" She asked faking curiosity.

He said in one breath, "Hermione was there, I killed it, and we both got detention."

"You can do better than that."

Harry sighed. Oh, how he hated talking about himself. "I had heard a scream from the girl's bathroom. I ran towards the sound and saw Hermione being held in the air by the troll. I sent a _Reducto_ and a modified banishing spell, the latter killing it. We have detention today with Hagrid."

"There, that's better," Daphne said, satisfied.

Harry gave a small smile. They had reached the Great Hall. By that time, there were already people eating, though Slytherin had the fewest people at the table. The professors were sitting at their table while many were yawning. Excessively. He could feel their stares as he walked in, but ignored them, sitting down at his usual spot and started to eat. Daphne did the same, seemingly oblivious to the others. The food was delicious.

As he ate, he felt more and more people looking at him. He turned around and asked in a loud voice, "What?"

That deterred most of the people staring at him, but he heard a Gryffindor whisper in awe, "You killed a troll. By yourself."

"Yes, I did. I killed it to prevent a person from dying. What do you want me to do? Make a ballad of my adventure? Proclaim myself as the next Merlin? Or wear a massive glowing sign saying that I'm the guy who killed the tyrant troll that ruled over Hogwarts with an iron fist, the same troll that made the Gryffindors pee their pants? I'd rather study, thank you very much."

At this, he turned away and the people in the Hall who had heard him stopped looking, the Gryffindor looking quite abashed. Professor Snape was having a hard time not bursting out laughing at Harry's nonchalance when saying that. Professor McGonagall seemed about ready to take points when Dumbledore nudged her and shook his head. Scowling, she turned her attention towards her food.

Suddenly a voice rang out from the house of lions. "You could be the next Dark Lord for all we know Potter," a sneer in the voice was evident. It was Weasley. What the hell was he doing, eating breakfast at this time? It was too early. "Probably killed the bloody troll with a killing curse."

"Language Mr. Weasley. Three points from Gryffindor," Professor Snape said, emotion lacking in his voice.

"I'd bet that you'd prefer to hit it with a tickling charm. Let's see what that'll get you," Harry said, turning to the Gryffindor table once again, adopting a thoughtful face. "Oh, I know. A giant club to the face."

"Ha! You didn't deny that you use the curse!" Weasley rose in exultation.

"Absolutely stupid, isn't he?" Harry said to Daphne, knowing full well that everyone could hear him. She nodded. "Wouldn't you think that the Headmaster know if I used the curse?"

"But you've probably got a way to hide it, with you being a bloody snake and all!"

"Ridiculous. But why would _you_ suggest it?" Harry smiled predatorily. "Probably used it several times in the past, didn't you Weasley?"

"Never!" the redheaded boy said.

"Then why did you suggest it? Did your _mother_ teach it to you?" Harry asked, baiting him.

"Why if I get my hands on you!" Weasley was now 'aggravated.'

Oh dear, it seemed as if he were going to do something that he was going to regret.

Harry rose, releasing his magic which gushed out of his body and swirled around him dramatically. The people around him shivered as if cold while others had fear in their eyes. He took a few menacing steps towards the Gryffindor table. His magic felt predatorial, a visible aura starting to form around him. Dumbledore looked quite entertained.

"Now listen here Weasley," Harry commanded, his voice dangerously low. "What would you do? You're the one who cowered in the Great Hall while Hermione was put in danger."

"But that doesn't mean anything!" Weasley said, his face as red as his hair, completely oblivious of the danger that he was in. "That Ravenclaw means nothing to anyone here! She's a bloody know-it-all that no one likes!"

"There's that Gryffindor arrogance that we all know," Harry said, now showing tremendous restraint as he went against every instinct to see Weasley in ropes, hanging from the ceiling. No one had the right to insult her like that, considering the fact that it was practically an insult. "Now, would you like to fight?"

Instead of answering the question, the redheaded boy said, "I, Ronald Bilius Weasley, challe-Mmph!"

Harry's wand had suddenly appeared in his hand which then sent a _Langlock_ spell at Weasley, locking his tongue to the roof of his mouth. It was a spell that Professor Flitwick showed him, among others, in order to effectively dispatch his opponents.

The youngest Weasley clutched at his mouth in panic, unable to speak. Suddenly, Harry sent an overpowered Cheering Charm towards the other wizard, causing the latter to shake uncontrollably with tears streaming down his cheeks.

This time, Dumbledore stood. _Finite_ , he incanted as Harry walked back to his seat. "Brilliantly handled Mr. Potter. 15 points to Slytherin. 15 points from Gryffindor for attempting to commence a duel. Mr. Weasley, you have detention tonight with Hagrid."

Ron simply grumbled and started shoving food into his mouth.

Slowly, the Hall went back to their food as if nothing had happened. Daphne, in character, decided that at a later date, she would ask Harry for those spells. Quickly, they finished and headed towards the library.

* * *

A/N: That was fun. Hopefully, the chapter isn't as bad as I think it is. I'm not particularly good at constructive _dialogue._ And the dreams. I'm trying my hand at those, but probably failed. It's, I think, one of the weaker parts of the chapter. But I've done my best. I've also dropped a few hints about Harry's financial background.

It's infinitely easier to come up with a basic guideline when writing. I'll probably post the next chapter next week. I hope that you are having a good week. Go ahead and poke holes in my story. I'll address them. If anyone is interested in beta-reading, PM me. Oh, nearly forgot- _ **please review**_. It makes my writing better.


	10. Unstable Friends with Helpful Goblins

A/N: Fuck. I made a mistake in the Author's Note in the last chapter. Thanks, Smutley-Do-Wrong. It's the day after. As I was writing that, I had actually tried to keep myself from making the mistake. My fucking mind...

* * *

Harry POV

The sun invaded the library, filling every nook and cranny with light. For Harry, it was the perfect time to study. The light gave him a sense of euphoria as it was a stark contrast from that retched place he called home. Leaning against a bookcase, Harry watched as Daphne slowly sauntered through the labyrinth of desks and chairs. At that moment, Harry felt as if he truly saw Daphne. Thoughts of all kinds raced through his mind, thoughts that ranged from adoration to depression. His key thought being that no one would fall for him. It was always the Boy-Who-Lived doing this, the Boy-Who-Lived doing that.

Harry snapped out of it as Daphne looked at him in a questioning manner, those grey eyes staring deep into his soul.

'God,' Harry thought, 'I have to stop this poetic nonsense.'

Slowly, he sat down next to her and opened the book, getting to business. He had wasted enough time already, staring at her. He explained the basic theory of the potion, backtracking when it was obvious that she didn't understand. These were the moment that Harry loved, nurturing a person in something that he was well-versed in. Every time that he saw that spark in their eyes, that _aha!_ moment, he felt a sense of pleasure. He had been able to unlock a mystery in that person's mind.

He breezed through complex explanations, explanations that would pop-up even in the basics, as if they were nothing, making Daphne easily understand. He gave analogies as time passed and provided suggestions. That wasn't what Daphne probably had in mind when asking him, but he was thorough. He had provided her information that was applicable to every single potion in the first year, allowing her to be properly prepared for class. That was what friendship and a favor got Daphne.

By the time that Harry stopped talking, Daphne had taken several _feet_ of notes, knowing that Harry was in what Tracey had called 'the zone.' Harry looked at her, her homework, and her notes. Immediately he bushed. Daphne suddenly started to laugh at his embarrassment.

"Shut up!" Harry lightheartedly said.

Daphne continued to laugh, and soon, Harry joined in. When the two of them had stopped, Harry then asked, "Why didn't you stop me?"

Daphne, with a smile plastered on her face, said, "Because I knew this would happen."

Harry was rendered speechless for several seconds.

Daphne then said, "You also gave me enough information that could probably help boost my grade by to an O in Potions."

Harry gave a small smile at this, relieved that his spouting wasn't for nought.

Suddenly, Daphne asked, "Are we done here?"

Harry thought it over. Wasn't _he_ the one who was supposed to be asking this? He had covered everything that he could possibly think of, bringing her up to speed with second years. But there _was_ one thing that he wanted to discuss.

"What were you saying about your father?"

Daphne's face darkened. "Damn." She paused for a second. Then she said, "Give me a second

"Don't sweat it. If it's too hard, then I'll just ask at a later date," Harry said, sensing that this was personal.

"No, no. You deserve to hear this anyway, being my friend and all," Daphne told him.

Harry was silent for a minute when Daphne started to speak. "Marriage contracts. My father has plans for me," Daphne said, obviously withholding information.

"What kind of plans?" Harry asked, neutrally.

"Isn't it obvious, Harry?" she asked. "My father wants to get rid of me. He doesn't want to have anything to do with me."

"Get _rid_ of you?" Harry said, starting to paint his own picture of her father.

"Merlin, calm down!" Daphne exclaimed.

Harry was using his Occlumency to withhold his reaction. she be exposed to something like that? Were these people that barbaric?

"Okay," Harry said, his voice neutral, though nowhere as hostile as the one he directed towards Weasley.

Daphne nodded. "Good. Well, my childhood was quite good, contrary to what you think. Dad was always kind and caring. Not once did he shout nor raise his voice, unless we were too far away. He always treated us with kindness. When I was around four years old, I had a sister named Astoria. I had always called her 'Tori,' to annoy her. Those were fun days. We would play around the house, pranking the hell out of the other kids while at other times, we would watch our father work in his lab. Mother was always the one who would discipline us, but we were typically grounded or had our wands confiscated."

Here, she took a breath. "Yearly, we would go to Ireland, Australia, Japan, and places like those for vacations. We would see the sights, breathe in the fresh air, and take a stroll through the streets. We would always eat the food there, no matter how repulsive they look, and _most_ of the time, they tasted good." She smiled, going through the memories. "For the few times they weren't, I'd typically throw up in Dad's face or in Mum's shirt. 'Tori would do the same until we both became…six years old, I think. By then, we knew that doing so was bad. But I digress. 'Tori and I always shared secrets. Our crushes, new spells, everything.

Then her voice wavered. "Then it was Father's stupidity that cost her life. He had left an experimental potion in the open and she drank it, probably thinking that it was an Invigoration Draught. She had been playing outside, you see, and she was apparently quite tired. Then I came down and saw her, dying on the floor." At this, tears started to fall. Harry moved closer to wrap his arms around her. It seemed like this was becoming one of his most practiced positions.

"Father had done everything and yet, she still died. After that day, Father wasn't the same. He pounded customs and formalities into me. He shouted at me and at mother, but he never dared to raise his hand against me. It seemed as if there had been a side of him still intact. Lately, he seemed to be going to be sending more owls than usual. I had ignored it for most of the summer, but when school first started, something about it was bugging me. So I had owled Father, asking why. He had said that he was looking for people suitable for me."

"Merlin," Harry breathed, hugging her tightly as he felt the tears soak his robes. She was sobbing softly so that no one else would hear them. Without thinking, Harry slowly grabbed his wand and cast a privacy charm over their location.

Slowly, her crying subsided and Harry released her, avoiding the possibility of making the situation awkward. "You know Harry, you're one of the three people outside my family who knows of this."

"Is there anything I can do?" he then asked, ready to do anything she wanted.

"Nothing!" the witch rose her voice, commanding him. "Do nothing. You won't be able to persuade my father to stop. He wants to get rid of me."

Harry simply nodded as she burst into tears again. It was obvious that she was surrendering herself to that life. He couldn't let it happen.

Suddenly she spoke again in a more forceful tone. "Leave Harry. Leave me alone. Please."

Immediately, he started to leave. He understood it. In fact, he understood all of it. And that was something that hurt his heart. She was giving up like he had been.

Harry left, the library, breaking into a sprint to go to Professor Snape's office. He didn't think that Dumbledore would be able to help him in this matter. Anyways, Snape was probably better experienced in this matter.

He weaved in and out of the crowd, making several people angry before they realized that there was only one person in the school with black hair and green eyes. The books in his bag, a bag that could be shrunken at will, tumbled about as he ran. The wind blew through his hair as he ran at inhuman speed. In no time, he found himself in front of the Potion Master's office. Lightly, he knocked. At the slightly annoyed greeting, he opened the door to see the professor writing.

"Yes, Mr. Potter? What did you want?" the wizard said without looking up.

'Detection wards,' Harry thought. He then said, "Daphne."

"And why would she be troubling you?"

"Err…" Harry said. Then he blurted, "Marriage contracts."

The soft scratching of the quill stopped as the professor looked at him. "Her father, you mean. Would you like to arrange a contract with him?" he said rather coldly.

"Merlin, no! Sorry sir, but she's…" Harry's voice trailed off.

"Ah," the professor said, his tone warming. "At this point and from my meetings with her father, it's pointless as he's had his mind set on getting rid of her. It's the truth Mr. Potter, but there's nothing to be done outside of making arrangements, and I believe that she doesn't want that."

"But there has to be a way to-" Harry was cut off

"I am telling you that there is **nothing** to be done outside of making arrangements," Professor Snape said forcefully. "Now, it that all?"

Harry, not wanting to accept that as the 'end all, be all,' simply said, "Yes."

"Then let me work in peace."

With that dismissal, Harry left slightly discouraged at the fact that he was unable to do anything about it. He didn't want Daphne to be condemned to such a life, a life where she had no choice. It wasn't right, for another person to experience such a thing. He knew that if word of this got out, boys all over Slytherin would be rushing to their owls. It simply couldn't happen.

But what was he going to do? He couldn't persuade a whatever year old man who had a personal urge to stop his plans. He was out of his league in this matter. But that didn't mean that he'd stop trying. Susan, perhaps, could help, but he'd have to make plans. the one thing that Harry hoped was that as a family associated with the Light, there was a smaller chance that Daphne would be betrothed.

Harry, wanting to keep his mind away from this particular topic and considered his options for the evening. As it was a free day, he could go to Diagon Alley, perhaps check buy some more supplies, check his accounts at Gringotts, and take a peek at Flourish and Blotts. Or he could go back to the Chambers to switch out the books, perhaps discover things with the lack of that unsettling aura.

He ran to the school-regulated Floo, something that could only be used for transportation on the weekend and for daily communication, though in the Slytherin common room, it was never used for secrecy sake. People were watching at all times.

Harry could feel the strange prickling sensation he associated with the Floo, having used it before to get to Diagon Alley, as he speeded towards his destination, The Three Broomsticks. He fell out of the Floo and landed on his arse only to hear laughter from Rosmerta, the owner of The Three Broomsticks.

"You know, Mr. Potter, that was one of the _best_ Floo landings I've seen in the past decade," Madam Rosmerta said between her bouts of laughter, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Harry simply scowled.

It took some time, perhaps a few minutes, before Madam Rosmerta was able to address Harry properly. "Welcome to The Three Broomsticks, Mr. Potter. Do you want anything?"

"No, I'm good. I just wanted to land near Flourish and Blotts," Harry said truthfully.

"Then, you'd best be on your way," Rosmerta said, understanding fully. The Floo's associated in the Leaky Cauldron were quite a walk from the actual shops, being located quite a walk from the bookshop. She had also encountered Ravenclaws that did the very same thing. "The day is still young."

Harry immediately cast a quick _Tergeo_ as he got up and made his way through the rowdy residents in The Three Broomsticks. The massive room was filled with drunken wizards and…well-defined waitresses. There were some underage wizards in the room, digging into whatever special Rosmerta had concocted and sipping what Harry believed to be butterbeer.

Stepping out of the crowded pub, Harry took a deep breath in. It was nice to out of the stuffy building. Letting his robes billow in the wind, Harry took off towards Gringotts, aiming to make a withdrawal. He approached the massive bank, its pillars making him feel insignificant. He walked across the massive marble floors and headed towards a teller.

"Excuse me, sir," Harry started, "I'd like to visit my vaults."

The teller simply looked at him in awe, as if he had done something extraordinary. This continued on for a few seconds.

"Sir?" Harry asked, unaware of what had happened.

"Hmm? Oh, sorry. You were saying?" the goblin said, straightening quite considerably.

"I'd like to make a withdrawal."

"May I have your key?"

Harry handed the piece of bronze that had been exquisitely fashioned into a caduceus. The goblin waved his hand over the key and nodded.

"All is in order. Just wait for Griphook. He should arrive in the next minute or so."

"And sir?" Harry asked.

"Yes, Mr. Potter?"

"Do I have any living relatives?" the wizard said in turn, wanting to desperately leave the Dursleys.

"You would have to ask Griphook, and even then, you may need to take a Blood test."

"Okay…" Harry said, filing that particular piece of information away.

As if waiting for the end of that conversation, a goblin walked out, wearing robes bearing a caduceus.

"Griphook?" Harry asked.

"Yes, Mr. Potter. Are you ready to go to your vault?"

"I was told that you would be able to find any of my living relatives through something called the Blood test."

"Not exactly, Mr. Potter," Griphook said. "That particular test is designed to show which families that you descended from. From that, Gringotts has the ability to track down any living relatives."

"Ah," Harry responded, understanding. "Is it possible for me to take it after I visit the vault?"

"Certainly."

"Then let's go, Griphook," Harry said, hoping that there would be someone else to take care of him.

They descended into the depths of Gringotts in a minecart. The rails twisted this way and that, causing Harry to grip the sides of the cart. But Griphook seemed perfectly at ease. Suddenly, they approached a waterfall and Harry tensed, bracing himself for the frigid water. Instead of getting wet, though, Harry felt a tingling sensation as they passed through it.

"Griphook?" Harry asked.

"Yes?"

"What purpose did that waterfall serve?"

"Well," Griphook started, "it served multiple purposes. The main purpose is to detect imposters and wash away glamours. There are other things like identifying the person's magical aura for security purposes, and it serves as a bug killer."

"Oh," Harry said.

The rest of the ride passed on in silence, the only sounds being the faint voices of other magical practioners and the grinding of the cart on the rails. Eventually, they reached Harry's 'Trust Vault,' and the wizard stuffed galleons into one of his bags. After doing such a thing, Harry asked Griphook to return to the main floor and eventually did so as the vault doors closed with a slam.

A few minutes later, Harry asked, "So, how do we go about performing the Blood test?"

"Follow me, I'll explain on the way," the goblin instructed. "It's typically performed in a private room to avoid prying eyes, so if you feel any wards, don't be concerned. The test itself requires a bit of blood which will be placed onto an enchanted parchment. The enchantments will then read the magical and blood ties that you have to any families which, upon your request, will be used to determine if there are any living relatives."

At the end of this short explanation, they had briskly walked to one and of the bank where there were multiple doors. Griphook chose the one furthest to the left. Inside, there was simply a desk, a parchment and silver dagger on the aforementioned desk, and two chairs on either side. Wizard and goblin sat down at opposite sides, and Harry grabbed the dagger. He sliced his hand, allowing blood to flow onto the parchment before setting it down, withdrawing his wand, and casting a healing spell. The goblin took the parchment, muttered some incomprehensible words, waited a moment, his eyes comically opened.

He wordlessly set it down and pushed it into Harry's direction.

Harry picked it up and read.

 _Hadrian James Potter Age: 11_

 _Parents: James Potter, Lily Potter nee Evans_

 _Blood status: Pureblood_

 _Families descended from: Le Fay, Potter, Peverell, Evans._

 _Vaults: 357, 101, 111, 490_

It wasn't that detailed (presumably because of the fact that its main purpose was to show a wizard what families he descended from), though it did reveal several things about Harry. He was part of very prestigious families, not that he truly cared, and probably held Wizengamot seats and considerable influence over various people.

'Well,' Harry thought, 'that's interesting...'

"Well, that's interesting," Harry said. "What does that mean for me?"

"Several things, Mr. Potter," Griphook said softly. "The first is that you control multiple vaults but as a minor, you are only able to take magical artifacts and nothing else. The second is that upon emancipation, you hold multiple seats at Wizengamot."

Harry kept silent.

"As for your relatives, I will get back at you in about a day or two, considering the fact that there _are_ hundreds of thousands of families in Magical England."

At this, Harry nodded his thanks and stepped out of the room, somehow remembering his way out of the bank. It was oddly satisfying to know that he could be

"A thought then struck Harry. "Griphook? Why am I a pureblood? I had heard that my mother was muggleborn."

"Indeed, it seemed as if she was, but evidently, there was a mistake. I'll investigate the matter further."

At this, Harry nodded his thanks and stepped out of the room, somehow remembering his way out of the bank. It was oddly satisfying to know that he could be related to the person who could have killed Merlin. He stepped out into the hectic masses and swam across the sea of hair and ended up in Flourish & Blotts. It was becoming one of his favourite places. Casting a quick _Point Me_ spell, he found books on the more defensive side of spells. He would find the more offensive spells in Knockturn Alley, probably at Borgin  & Burkes if the rumours served right. The driving thought that allowed Harry to make plans for such a trip was that there was no such thing as Dark and Light magic. It was based on intent. They were even taught that _Wingardium Leviosa_ could be used for killing. Perhaps blunt force trauma could have killed the troll, the sinks being banished into its body.

"That meant' Harry thought, 'that it could be considered… _evil._ And _Avada Kevadra_ could be used for mercy killing which means…it could be _good._ '

But that didn't mean he'd go to Knockturn Alley this evening. Grabbing a particular book, he ran his hands up and down the spine, feeling his magic oddly bond with the book. He felt the magic behind the spells, each concept in his grasp. All it took was the simple act of reading. That was his secret behind his success. Well that, and the thing that the Dursleys had drilled into his head. The underlying need to work. There was no laying around, no dozing. His life was simply composed of work, reading, writing, and magic. He didn't have the time for a relationship, at least not yet.

Later in the day, after eating at the Three Broomsticks and reading several books near the Black Lake, he returned to the Slytherin common room as the sun was setting. He immediately froze once he saw Professor Snape standing in the center of the room. Alone.

"Well, Mr. Potter," Snape drawled. "Where were _you?_ "

"Diagon Alley and the Black Lake," Harry replied, his mind racing to find anything he had violated.

"Good. Nothing in violation of the rules," Professor Snape simply said. "You're expected at Hagrid's Hut in 30 minutes."

Harry simply nodded.

"Hurry. It's best that you're not late," the professor simply said.

Harry turned to leave when he heard, "And Mr. Potter?" Harry turned. "Brilliant work of the troll, whatever you did."

"Thank you, professor," Harry responded, rushing off towards the Slytherin dorms.

That was odd. What was up with the Professor? He never seemed to compliment his students outright.

Harry, dismissing the thought, ran into Tracey as he turned the corner, causing books to fall everywhere.

"Harry!" Tracey exclaimed exasperatedly.

"Sorry," the wizard said, helping her gather the books. A particular book caught his attention. "Greek mythology?"

"Shush!" Tracey immediately said. "Not so loud."

"You're being pretty loud yourself."

Tracey sighed. "Purebloods hate anything Muggle, and-"

"This is Muggle," Harry finished.

Tracey simply nodded her head then cocked it to one side. "There's been one thing on my mind. How did you kill it? The troll, I mean."

"A modified banishing charm."

"Harry…" Tracey said in a whining voice, oddly seeing through his blank face.

"Tomorrow, I'll tell you, but you'd have to keep it a secret."

"Okay…" Tracey agreed.

"See you around," Harry said, turning around.

Harry ran to his dorms, grabbed a change of clothes, and took a quick shower. By the time that he was redressed, it was nearly time for his detention.

* * *

A/N: Well, I'm cutting it a bit close, but I'm keeping my promise of a chapter this week. I'm going to go on a cruise with my family, so it will probably be a while before I can work on the next chapter. Several things changed thanks to my imagination and my characters developing their own mind.

 **Please Review.**

Please. It helps. I actually changed a lot of this chapter to accommodate Daphne's story, and to introduce another one of Harry's abilities. And to a person who wants to beta read sporadic chapters, PM me.

For everyone interested: No, this will not be a harem. My little mind is not capable of processing such things and it wouldn't be healthy for Harry's 'partners.' They'd succumb to jealousy and fighting.

smokeapound: Thank you. It probably is compared to other stories. I've only written a few narrative essays with barely five lines of dialogue, so attribute my inability to create effective dialogue to that. In the end, it's my fault, anyways.

Smutley-Do-Wrong: I made a mistake with the author's note, obviously. The dreams were fun. The scenes should shift like the Pensieve memories in the films/movies.

plums: Yes, it is contrived. I'm not particularly good with keeping a good flow. And it can also be considered an unofficial meeting of a twisted Golden Trio!

Michand: I tried. I actually tried. Sorry if it didn't live up to your expectations. I tried to make it realistic, going through the memories pertaining to that particular topic. But I'm not particularly good with realism in dialogue.

xNaruHina: No, she's a witch. But, I guess that mistake could be made. Somehow...

sanbeegoldiewhitey: It really was. It makes sense, though, for the friendship to be forced.

Thanks to people who say this story's good so far. Hopefully, I can keep it up with all the voices in my head. But stories like /s/3399775, /s/8378840, and /s/4536005 are helping me keep my sanity. Happy reading.

I've also been a good little boy by making this chapter slightly longer. Little Johnny needs to rest now. Nighty night.

HHS

A/N: Mostly Edited as of 04.05.17


	11. The Thing that Lay in the Dark

A/N: Sorry for the delay. I tried with the chapter, but I had trouble starting it off, improving the dialogue and the chapter climax, and stuff like that. At least it was quite close to what I had in mind. I also think that I'm starting to talk excessively about the Dursleys, but I'm going to leave it in as it helps the story progress. It doesn't feel like my best, but I tried my hardest. **I've also revised the first four/five chapters so reread them for details, if you want.**

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They had just come from Ravenclaw tower. Argus Filch, the aged caretaker of Hogwarts, had leathered skin and disgustingly dirty hair that seemed to represent a nearly bald mop. His back was hunched over and the old man was, with a shaking hand, carrying a lamp that did little to help the dark environment around them. It was also useless considering the fact that there were torches strategically placed around the school kept the darkness at bay. Not that Harry didn't like the darkness. It was an old friend for him, providing comfort from his 'relatives,' and as a way to see everything, yet never to be seen.

He could remember being told to stay in his cupboard, make noise, and pretend not to be there at all when there were people over and when the eldest Dursley was working. Each time that he had done the exact opposite, the Dursleys would drag him out of the cupboard (after the visitors had left, of course) and let his punishment begin. It ranged from his hands being forcibly placed in boiling water, being hit with a frying pan, belts, having a complete lack of food and water, and numerous other things that would have made adults cry. Yet the thing that continuously plagued him at night were their laughs. Laughs that mocked him as they cut into his flesh, as they crippled him, and as they mutilated his body. He could remember being hit, the number of aforementioned hits increasing as he made more sounds. He learned to hide his tears, to cover his tracks when running, to run silently. He learned how to steal and how to escape the house, something that allowed him to get to the library. But something compelled him to return home, something that kept him from truly running away from the Dursleys. It dominated his mind each time he had tried.

But this was the year he was truly going to get away. Of course, that didn't mean he wouldn't get his revenge.

Magic was something that allowed him to not only forget, but to prepare. He could leave the house with his knowledge of magic, build his own home perhaps. All he'd have to do is get rid of the Trace and learn as much magic as possible. He'd have to take a trip to Knockturn tomorrow. He felt ready.

Perhaps, he inherited properties. He'd have to send a letter to Gringotts.

But that train of thought was interrupted by something that seemed a cross between a cat screeching and nails being scraped across a chalkboard. He immediately pulled his wand out, quite discreetly, and felt his hand put into tight vise. He quickly turned and relaxed, seeing that it was Hermione. She was scared, suddenly surprised by the sound in the massive castle. He guessed that they were both a bit jumpy at night after the troll incident. Filch turned to see their hands and cackled.

"Does someone need their mummy?" he teased, a smile revealing rotting teeth. "I bet that you'd absolutely _love_ the Fat Lady's practice sessions. It would be quite fun to see you react to the shackles I keep on my office wall and the other equipment I keep there."

Harry simply nodded, thinking that the Squib was clinically insane. That apparently satiated the Squib for he turned around and started to head to the entrance of the Gryffindor Tower. He gently pried his hand from Hermione, wrapped his arm around her shoulder, and trod along the stone path, following the Hogwarts caretaker. It was a few minutes before the 'singing' stopped and Harry had relaxed enough to put his wand away. There was no particular reason for him to be so 'on edge.'

Their footsteps echoed through the massive chamber that they had entered and they quickly approached the series of stairs Harry dubbed as a malicious, sentient death trap looking for its next victim. There was a theory floating around that the teachers had covered up incidents concerning the deaths of students due to the moving stairwells. Thankfully, the staircase that they were currently on didn't move. It seemed as if it was able to sense magical auras. But what could happen if, somehow with all of the Muggle repelling wards, a Muggle were to climb these stairs? They could fall to their deaths.

Filch quickly scuttled up the stairs and spoke the password, causing Harry's thoughts to be once again shattered. He motioned for them to hasten their pace and once they reached the Fat Lady, he spoke the password. It was Pig Snout. Apparently, it changed every week, similar to Slytherin's password being changed in the span of two weeks. Perhaps, there were more similarities between the two Houses than they would like to admit.

Filch told the Fat Lady to watch them, and to signal him when they were doing something that they weren't supposed to do. He disappeared into the hole that the Lady had opened for him and Harry dropped his arm around Hermione. It wasn't good to let a student see that interaction between them. They wouldn't only cause the rumours to increase, though the paintings didn't seem to care. They waited for the caretaker to return as the Lady's eyes were sternly focused on them.

"Harry?" she whispered.

"Hmm?"

"What did you do to the troll?" she asked curiously.

"Err…" Harry started, "you're better off not knowing."

"Please?" she asked, somehow twisting his heart with that particular tone.

Harry sighed, and mentally brightened. He motioned for her to move in.

Hermione then heard him whisper, "Magic."

She hit him in the arm. Hard.

"Ouch," Harry whispered, rubbing his arm. "That bloody hurt. What did you do that for?"

"You know exactly what," she simply responded.

Harry sighed again, something that seemed to be one of his favorite things to do. "I'll be in the Ravenclaw common room tomorrow."

"But the entrance is guarded by a knocker that asks riddles."

"Riddles?" He asked.

"Apparently, it's quite effective at keeping most people out."

Harry sighed for the _third_ time. It made sense. "People in this world _do_ use magic more often than their heads."

They were quiet for a bit before Hermione then asked, "What are you going to do once you're there?"

"Excuse me?" Harry was confused. What was she talking about?

"Well, once you're there in the common room, what are you going to do?"

"Well, there, I'll guide you to a room in one of the corridors and we'll do stuff. I'll probably show you a secret of mine."

Hermione looked at him as if were crazy. "And why would I follow you?"

"Err…"

"Is it because you wanted to exploit my body in that room God-knows-where?" she asked in a sweet tone, a smile on her face.

"B-b-but-" Harry was coloring slightly at the realization that _Hermione_ just did that.

Hermione burst into laughter and immediately quieted down as the Fat Lady immediately shushed them. But despite making no noise, tears still streamed down her cheeks as she grabbed her sides, silently laughing uncontrollably. That was new.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up." Harry said, grumbling slightly.

It was some time before Hermione was able to truly calm down and when that happened, Filch came out hauling an irate Weasley, muttering incomprehensibly.

Filch practically shouted, "I _will_ bring this to Professor McGonagal!" Directing his attention to Harry and Hermione, he lowered his tone oh so slightly and said, "Do the two of you want me to go to your Head and tell them that you two have been causing trouble?"

Harry immediately responded, "No sir. It's just that we were remarking how odd us magical users are and Hermione here cracked a joke." Might as well tell the truth, seeing as how absurd it was.

Immediately, he turned to the Fat Lady and asked for verification, his eyes widening at the fact that he had told the truth. A glint of respect appeared in his eye. "Well then," he said in a gravelly voice, "that's new. Perhaps, I was overreacting. But, don't think that you're special. Let's go and don't get lost else the shadows'll jump out and grab you. It's happened before." At this he briefly cackled. It reminded Harry of one of those bad movies that Dudley used to watch.

Unfortunately for Ron Weasley, Harry heard him say, as they walked down the halls, "Bloody mental, she is. Cackling like a crazy woman."

Harry, showing tremendous restraint, didn't hex Weasley into oblivion. Though, he did let his magic surge up around him, allowing it to swirl around him and directed it towards Ron. The youngest Weasley suddenly stopped and turned around with fear in his eyes. Harry had his wand in hand and waved it around as they walked, smiling predatorily. A few seconds later, he wrinkled his nose in disgust as he smelled urine and continued to move, Hermione not noticing the exchange while Ron was shocked into motion by the yowling of Filch's cat.

Harry hid his wand and told Hermione not to worry about Ron, causing her to look at the former wizard oddly, confused at the suddenness of the entire thing. The group slowly made their way towards the half-giant's hut, shadows lurking at every corner despite the fact that the torches burned oh so brightly.

(A few minutes later)

Hagrid's voice, though soft, reverberated through Harry. "Where were ye? Yer nearly ten minutes late!"

The sun had set minutes earlier and the crickets were softly chirping in the background. The wind rustled the leaves while animals scuttled through the thick vegetation. Ron was on edge, Harry showed little concern at the slightly ominous presence the forest had, and Hermione's face was slightly scrunched up in fear.

"Sorry Hagrid," Filch said. "This boy," he then said, gesturing to the only redhead present, "put up a fight, badmouthing Mr. Potter and refusing to go to detention."

"Okay Filch," Hagrid said. "I'll be able care o' him."

The Hogwarts caretaker walked away, hunched and oddly shuffling. Harry suddenly noticed that Hagrid held a crossbow in his hand and a leather leash in the other with a large dog at one side. How he had missed the nearly five-foot-long beast, he didn't know.

"Listen here," the half-giant commanded, "'cause it's dangerous what we're gonna do tonight, an' I don' want no one takin' risks. Follow me over here a moment."

They walked over to a spot from the hut, the dog grudgingly moving and Weasley trailing at the back. There was an odd sheen on the ground, in specks, the colour of silver.

"Look there," said Hagrid, "see that stuff shinin' on the ground? Silvery stuff? That's unicorn blood. There's a unicorn that's been hurt badly by somethin'. This is the second time in a week. I found one dead last Wednesday. We're gonna try an' find the poor thing. We might have ter put it out of its misery."

"Out of its misery?" Hermione asked, a scared tone entering her voice. "What if something attacks us?"

Weasley, Harry noticed, nodded his head, obviously asking the same question without words.

"Then we send red sparks. Least you do, I can't do much," Hagrid added. "If yer find the unicorn send green sparks. Got that?"

The three students nodded.

"Wait," Weasley said, "We're going into the Forbidden Forest? The Forest that Dumbledore told us not to go into?"

Harry sneered, "What happened to that Gryffindor courage that you were showing earlier?"

"Harry, stop that. We don't need 'nother fight," Hagrid said. "And yes, Ron, we're goin' into the Forest. Would yer like to bring Fang along? Not that he'll be much help, with him being a coward an' all."

Weasley nodded frantically.

"Well, we'd best go," Hagrid said, his tone trailing off as he remembered something. "But 'fore we leave, I'll 'ave to put yer in groups. Ron goes with Harry an' Fang while Hermione goes with me."

Harry said nothing, mentally sighing at the prospect of having to work with Weasley while the redhead asked, "Why are we splitting up? And why do _I_ have to be with Harry?"

"Cause the blood's all over ter place. It must've been staggering a bit meaning that we'll take different trails. And yer with Harry because you two can take care of yerself with Fang. Hermione is with me 'cause it's safer for her," Hagrid simply said. "No offense."

"None taken," the only witch said in a small voice.

The group then split up and headed their respective ways. Harry trodded through the Forest, thinking of the story of Red Riding Hood. Weasley had a terrified expression on his frace, his eyes darting back and forth while fidgeting as he walked. Harry had his wand out, ready to attack anything or send sparks.

It was unnerving, the Forest, as if it were trying to smother them with the darkness and the things that lurked in the shadows, watching their every move. It was nearly thirty minutes that the two wizards and Fang had been treading through the forest before Harry heard something. It was a disgusting slurping sound that came from a clearing a bit aways. Harry immediately grabbed Weasley's attention by waving his hand and making a shushing gesture. Slowly he crept up to the clearing and saw a unicorn laying on the ground, struggling to get up.

But the things that horrified Harry was that there was a menacing figure hunched over the unicorn as if it were slurping up the beast's blood. Immediately, Ron, who had crept up beside him, ran off, Fang following him. Unfortunately, the figure stood up and turned to face Harry. Harry found himself casting a spell he had practiced in an abandoned room he had found.

 _Incarcerous_! He incanted, his wand swishingthrough the air at the speed of lightning.

The creature, a wizard, pulled out a wand and deflected the spell towards Harry. Acting on instinct, he dodged the spell and suddenly crumpled to the ground, screaming out in pain. The pain was unlike anything Harry had experienced before. It coursed through Harry, causing him to curl into a fetal position, whimpering softly. Not even the Dursleys had been able to inflict such pain. Harry sobbed and let out a blood-curdling scream. A man laughed maniacally in the background, chilling Harry to the bone. It sounded so foreign but the malice was familiar.

Blood seeped out of his scar as the wizard approached him, seeming to float just above the ground. It, he, threw back his hood and Harry saw a pale face, a bald head, and thin slits like a nose. The wizard crept up to him and stood inches above Harry.

"Ah, Harry Potter," it spat as if mocking him. "The Boy-Who-Lived, standing here at my feet. Look at him! The Saviour of the British Wizarding World at my feet. Bested by a child? Me?! NEVER!"

The ground shook as the thing uttered its last word. Suddenly, it pointed its wand at Harry and cried, _Crucio!_ in a familiar voice.

Harry's back arched as his limbs flailed violently. He opened his mouth, and, to his dismay, let out a guttural scream that sent the birds flying, the animals scuttling, and the Creatures of the Forest running away. It felt like someone was cutting through him with hot knives. Harry desperately tried to reach for his wand that lay mere feet from him, but he couldn't. He felt his mind starting to fray. He couldn't take much more of this. And the wizard knew this.

Immediately, the wizard stopped his torture and cocked his head. He suddenly flicked his wand and a metal shield appeared to his side, deflecting a sudden arrow from the trees.

"Come out and fight me you coward!" Voldemort's voice thundered throughout the clearing. The unicorn slightly brayed, as arrows suddenly appeared from all directions, forcing the wizard to not only shield himself, but Harry, with a clear, magic shield.

"Now, now, Harry," the insane wizard cackled. "It won't do to let you die just yet. Not when I have so many things planned for you. But I must leave. I _will_ come back for you."

Somehow, the creature sent out a plume of smoke, obscuring Harry's vision. It felt cold and sharp, bringing up memories that Harry wished he hadn't remembered. He felt tears flow shamefully down his cheeks. His body convulsed violently in a combination of pain and depression. He couldn't stop himself.

His sobs reverberated throughout the surrounding area. He slowly, quieted down, his body still spasming. Laying there on the ground with his mind fogged by pain, he heard something trot nearby. A horse? Something hard touched his chest, as if it were and wand, and Harry felt overwhelming warmth. It filled him with joy and ecstasy though it wasn't obvious. As if by magic, something chased his memories away, scrubbing his mind and removing each spot of pain.

He felt something press against his lips and instinctively, they opened. Harry, quickly falling unconscious from what he thought to be physical exhaustion, felt something slide down his throat. After that, he felt his mind let go of any thought.

Unbeknownst to Harry, a centaur by the name of Bane stepped out of the mist, visibly shaken from whatever he had remembered. He had platinum hair and mesmerizing blue eyes. Eyes that held not only wisdom but something that made the centaur that stood before him spark with energy. He wrapped his arms around the fallen Boy-Who-Lived and carried him through the Forest. Thankfully, no Dark Creature attacked the centaur for it would mean useless bloodshed. The centaur reached the edge of the clearing and laid the child on the ground in front of Hagrid's Hut. A few seconds later, he blew a horn, loud and clear and stood there waiting.

Minutes passed as the centaur waited and suddenly he heard the barking of a dog, incomprehensible muttering of children, and a massive man grunting as he made his way through the Forest.

The man, Hagrid, said in a deep baritone voice, "Bane! Ho-What happened?" The half-giant then noticed Harry laying on the ground, breathing.

"Harry!" a shrill voice cried out. Hermione ran to the prone body and wrapped her arms around the surviving wizard. She sobbed, cradling his head.

Hagrid stepped over and pulled Hermione away, picking Harry up in the process. He then carried the wizard into his hut and laid him on the table, shoving random things off to one side. Quickly, he grabbed a handful, bucketful to Hermione mind you, and threw it into the fireplace, shouting, "Medical Wing!"

A slightly chubby woman with wrinkles and a short, pudgy nose appeared in the Floo. "Hagrid?"

"There's an emergency!"

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A/N: God, I blabber on and on and on and on in my A/N's. Sorry for that. Thanks to everyone that reviewed, followed, and favourited this story. What did I miss this time?

 **stars90:** Thanks. You don't know how many times I've revised that section.

 **Smutley-Do-Wrong:** Yes, it's AU. Thanks for bringing it to my attention (something that I had forgotten to patch up in my story _again-_ Lazy on my part, sorry for that). But that doesn't mean that there isn't a pub in Hogsmeade. It made sense for there to be multiple pubs in Diagon Alley, considering the fact that it was one of the busiest parts in Wizarding Britain. There _should_ be competition with the Leaky Cauldron if it was _that_ sucessful. I probably botched something up in that unnecessary explanation.

 **anarion87:** thanks.

 **Gime'SS:** He shouldn't at this stage of his life because it's effectively condemning Daphne to a fate that she doesn't want. He doesn't want to do it. Anyways, he doesn't even know the brevity of the money that he has, if he has any at all. I just blew that statement up to unnecessary propotions. Sorry. And your welcome.

 **xNaruHina** : She _is_ uncaring because of her House and things like the past two, three years under forced tutoring. But, the main reason for her to do such a thing with Harry would be that he is being watched and she doesn't want the rumours to increase. If he did comfort Hermione, the rumours would only grow/be confirmed. The best course of action in that situation would be to avoid talking in public with Hermione and obviously interacting with her, for now. Harry, at that time, was yet to cement his reputation. At this point, the troll should be enough to stop most public badmouthing due to fear.

 **Rosalind Fairchilde:** Fixed. Thanks. I feel stupid for doing that, _again._

 **MastrDragn** : Aren't we all going crazy? P.S. Thanks for telling me again. I genuinely would've forgotten as I was a bit lazy at the time.

Review please. There's that begging side of me again.

I've stolen your ear! HAHAHAHA! And I'm not giving it back.

Cheers

HHS


	12. Notes, a Room, and a Relative

A/N: This is a rather long one because I haven't uploded in a while. Consider this the equivalent of two chapters in one when you take in the fact that my chapters are typically around 3,000 words. Don't sue a _pubscent_ child. Please. He doesn't own anything. Not even the clothes on his back.

* * *

Harry groaned softly, his entire body pulsating. Groggily, he got up, cautiously opening his eyes in fear of the light. He looked around him, noticing the sterile environment, and the clean bed that he lay in. It was an odd sensation for him, knowing that someone was there to take care of him. That someone would actually take their time to nurse him back to his prime condition. No one had done that before. The school nurse in his elementary school was detached and the teachers certainly didn't pay any attention to him. He shuddered softly at the things that suddenly started to race through his mind. Tears started to well up in his eyes, something that hadn't happened for years, if one excluded last night's session.

Tears, he had learned, were useless. They couldn't stop others from hitting him, from destroying his mind and body. It was a useless endeavor to attempt to flush his body of feelings if he would only experience the same things in a few hours. He shuddered as he remembered the sudden brutality of his Uncle's beatings, something that intensified the moment that he cried out in pain or cried in general. And despite all of this, despite of all of the scars on his back to remind him of each time his Uncle had hurt him, he felt tears flow down his cheeks as he sat there in the Medical Wing.

Hearing footsteps, he quickly wiped his eyes and managed to pull the covers over his body just before his curtains opened and a rather old woman came through. It was Madam Pomfrey, carrying potions.

"Good, Mr. Potter," she started in a rather caring tone, as if he were a wounded puppy. "You're awake. Now, dear, do you remember what happened?"

Harry nodded, not wanting his voice to betray what he was currently feeling.

"Good, good," she said absentmindedly, placing the potions on an oaken nightstand near his head and, with a flourish of her wand, a Dictating Quill and parchment appeared. "Could you provide me with your own version of the incident _without_ straining yourself. Unless you really want me to stun you and force potions down your throat."

Unconsciously gulping at the realization that she was serious, Harry started to give his version of the events, events that caused her to gasp as she realized that someone had purposely killed a unicorn in order to drink its blood. These were the things that she should have been told before interrogating Mr. Potter. She was further surprised by the fact that Harry had been force-fed liquid that seemed suspiciously like a prototype of a potion that had properties that were able to relieve the effects of the Cruciatus Curse. A potion that was undetectable once more potions entered the person's body. It was a perplexing mystery, something that she'd bring to Professor Snape. After all, _he_ was the Potions Master, not her. Although, she believed her charms picked up unicorn's blood, though it was probably a mishap with magic, residue left over from what blood which fell onto his clothing due to the wizard.

Once Harry was finished, Madam Pomfrey instructed the wizard to take the potions on the nightstand. As she rather carefully watched him down the potions, the doors to the infirmary suddenly opened, a rather solemn witch coming through.

"Harry?" a rather familiar voice bounced off the walls. Footsteps could be heard thudding along the stone floor.

Harry, knowing who it was brightened rather obviously. It was nice to have a friend who actually cared.

"Well, Ms. Greengrass," Pomfrey said, "It was rather fortunate that you've visited him at this time as he just woke up. You may talk to Mr. Potter, but mustn't be here for too long. He needs his rest. And don't roll your eyes at me, young man."

Harry's eyes widened. How in the world did she know? Daphne simply snickered as Pomfrey left.

"So, how are you feeling?" she asked, her tone rather uncertain.

"Fine," was his simple reply. "Anything _spectacular_ happen?"

Daphne pretended to think. "Nothing that I can think of. We went to Diagon Alley, I talked with Blaise about stuff, and my friend had to be carried to the emergency section of the Medical Wing! What the fuck did you do to get here?" This was all said at a conversational volume, but that didn't suppress the anger in her voice.

Harry simply reached up to rub his eyes. In a resigned tone, Harry then said, "When you get out of here, I'll attempt to persuade Madam Pomfrey to let me leave. Just be ready to go somewhere in the common room."

"Potter," her tone unforgiving. "Tell me right now and I'll do it when we leave." Here, her tone softened. "What the hell is it with you getting into these situations?"

Sighing, Harry said in a flat tone, "The Cruciatus."

"What about it?" Fear crept into her tone. She was being purposefully ignorant, not wanting to hear it.

"I was hit with it, why else would I mention it?"

"Merlin," was her only response. "How in the world are you still in such a good condition?"

Harry was silent for a bit. "Apparently, according to Pomfrey, I was given a potion of sorts that was able to properly numb the effects of the curse. What the hell it was made of? I don't know. But thank God for it because I wouldn't want to be here, convulsing like a fish out of water."

Daphne simply hummed her acknowledgement, still processing the fact that Harry was attacked and held under the Cruciatus in a school that was being run by _Dumbledore_ , the vanquisher of Grindelwald and the supposed 'Merlin' of modern times. How in the world could something like this happen under _his_ care?

But these thoughts were shattered as she heard Harry then say, "I'm related to Morgan Le Fay."

"What?" Daphne was confused. There was absolutely no reason for him to say that.

"I'm related to Morgan- "

"Yes, yes, I heard. But why did you say that?"

"Ah, err…" Harry mumbled unintelligibly. "I don't know. I just blurted out whatever was on my mind. It seemed like a cool tidbit of information."

"What have you done to Harry Potter?" Daphne snapped, a smile softening her tone. "He does not simply blurt out whatever is on his mind."

Harry smiled. "The question is what have _you_ done to Daphne Greengrass? I didn't know that she paid attention to Harry Potter. Does she have a _crush_ on him?"

Daphne simply rolled her eyes and scowled. "You know, if you weren't in bed, I'd have hexed you by now."

"I know," Harry said as he smiled rather innocently, "That's why I'm doing it."

"You utter prat!"

"Thank you."

They then regarded each other for a bit before Daphne then asked, "When did you find out?"

"Yesterday morning, I think."

"Yesterday _morning_?" Daphne asked, an incredulous tone creeping into her voice. "That fast? It normally takes days for the Goblins to properly prepare everything."

Harry simply shrugged. He then took on a thoughtful expression, a thought hitting him. "Do you think that we could ask Professor Flitwick to train us in dueling?"

"Why would we do that?"

"Because of the fact that it would help with any potential dangers that hide in the school. And it would also serve as a good way to intimidate any potential enemies."

Daphne considered this for a moment before nodding. "Good points. But when should we ask him?"

"I was thinking once I get out of this bed, which shouldn't be too…long…" his voice suddenly trailed off as his eyes dropped as if rather heavy. His entire body relaxed, causing Daphne to look on in alarm.

"Harry?" Daphne asked, drawing Pomfrey's attention and causing the med-witch to run diagnostic spells.

"No worries, Ms. Greengrass," Pomfrey said in a warm tone, fully understanding what had happened. "He's just a bit exhausted. Now go about your day, he needs his rest. And it won't simply do to stay here because I'll be off and about, taking care of him."

Daphne simply nodded her acknowledgement and headed outside, hoping that Harry was okay. Of course he was okay, he was the Boy-Who-Lived, right? And so, as she was liked out, she ran into Hermione Granger.

Now, she wouldn't call her a mud blood by any means because of the fact that Tracey technically could be called that, depending on who you ask. But that didn't necessarily mean that she liked Granger. The latter witch was always flouting her knowledge, causing her to become the proclaimed, "smartest witch of her age."

But that intelligence didn't mean that Granger was fit to be in Ravenclaw. She seemed more suited to Gryffindor, all things considered. Granger didn't have the wisdom that Ravenclaw had, often running into situations, believing that they could be solved through some book definition when in those instances, there were centuries of tradition involved. One couldn't change such things with a snap of one's fingers nor would they be easily let go. It requires finesse and things of that sort, things that Granger lacked. Now give her several years' time, then _perhaps_ she'd be able to understand somethings, but as of right now, she annoyed Daphne.

In addition to this, Granger never knew the right time to ask questions, always bombarding a target with questions, not expecting the person to thoroughly answer them. She always seemed to believe that there was always a good side of people, and that everything should follow everything that _she_ believes should happen. OR at least, it should happen according to the teachers' will. She was simply too much of an annoyance, a good-two-shoes.

"Granger," was all that Daphne said, everything that was just said running through her mind.

"Daphne," came the warm response.

"He's still asleep," Daphne said, not wanting Granger to come into contact with Harry because it was shown that bad things happened whenever the Ravenclaw was with Harry.

Granger put whatever she had in her pocket. "Ah, okay."

A thought then struck Daphne, a thought that came from seemingly nowhere. Despite Granger's annoying attitude, she could serve as a potential well of information. It just needed a bit of prodding… "What happened on that night?"

"Two nights ago, we-err…" Granger started, immediately cutting herself off.

"Is there something wrong?" Daphne asked, wondering why Granger stopped whatever train of thought that she had.

Granger looked sheepish. "I-err-was told by Headmaster Dumbledore not to tell anyone who wasn't part of the staff."

Fuck. So, this is what it boiled down to. Bloody hell, this would take some maneuvering.

"Headmaster Dumbledore?" Daphne asked, receiving a nod. "Why would he do that?"

"Well, because…" Granger started, "…well, he didn't necessarily—but what matters is that he told me to do it."

"And do you think that you should withhold information that would help us Slytherins protect Harry? He _does_ have friends there anyways." Daphne discreetly pulled out her wand and erected silencing charms around them.

"But Headmaster Dumbledore…" Granger's voice trailed off, clinging in vain to her excuse.

"What if something happens?"

"What? Granger was now suspicious. _Let's see what we can do with this,_ Daphne thought.

"What if something happens and Dumbledore is not there, like the troll? Who would be there to help protect Harry, other than you?"

Granger looked rather worried as she realized what Daphne was saying. "No one."

"Then isn't it better for me to share this information with Harry's friends in Slytherin so that if there is something, we have more people supporting him?" Daphne was laying it a bit thick. She would only tell _two_ other people, not the entirety of Slytherin.

And so, Hermione mulled this over, thinking of the pros and cons of telling Daphne, ultimately deciding that it was better to tell her about what had happened and what Dumbledore had said. Daphne's heart wrenched at the vivid way he was described when Hermione saw him.

On and additional note, the way that Granger handled an annoyed Weasley earned Daphne's respect. It was by silencing the wizard and trapping him in an _Incarcerous_ , adding a massively overpowered Tickling hex that left the Weasel shaking with laughter 'til he passed out.

But if it were Daphne who was there, she'd have already dangled him by the legs on some tree and transfigured something into a spider. Spiders always scared people and Weasley seemed to absolutely dread Herbology (considering the fact that they constantly discussed insects and arachnids).

At the end of Granger's story, Daphne then thanked her and left, watching the Ravenclaw head towards the library

That was a rather odd experience, something that forced Daphne to ignore the twinge in her consciousness. It was something that she'd just get used to. Now to find Tracey and Blaise…

And so, word of Harry's condition had spread as more people in the Hospital Wing were discharged that day, noticing the Boy-Who-Lived sitting there, rather weak and mostly asleep. More people started to visit Harry, forcing Pomfrey only to let staff and his known friends through, friends that had visited on a regular basis instead of the people that only appeared after she had discharged her patients. It was a rather busy day for her.

The day passed and the people waiting at the door of the Medical Wing lessened, causing Pomfrey to sigh in relief at the fact that there were only a few people waiting, people that she knew were his friends. And so, she let them in, telling them not to stay long as Harry would probably wake up tomorrow. She was right.

Early in the morning, Pomfrey heard a person muttering incomprehensible around the Harry's bed and drew her wand, a hex on her lips. But she dropped her wand at the sight of Harry standing, Hedwig on his left arm and his wand in his right hand. The insolent child was in his school uniform, making Pomfrey become rather annoyed. Why did he think he could walk out of the Medical Wing?

"Harry Potter!" Madam Pomfrey shouted, causing Harry to flick his wand and put silencing charms around them to avoid waking any possibly injured students. "Get back in bed this instant, or else!"

"Madam Pomfrey, Poppy," Harry began in a rather melodic tone, as if it were like hundreds of violins speaking, weaving a mesmerizing melody. "If I can jump out of bed, then don't you think that I should be able to get about my day rather healthily. And if you are correct in your assumption that the potion negated any effects of the Cruciatus Curse, then shouldn't I be perfectly fine?"

Pomfrey showed some resistance, trying to ignore the voice, saying, "But you still need to take potions to make sure that there won't be any additional effects. We don't even know what the potion did for you."

"Then," Harry said, giving some ground, still speaking in that mesmerizing voice of his, "May I have the potions? I can drink them throughout the day, in intervals."

"Definitely," Pomfrey said, giving him the potions with a smile on her face.

Then Harry's voice returned to normal. "Thank you, Madam Pomfrey,"

"You're very welcome young man. Now go on, get out," the nurse said, making a shooing gesture.

Harry suddenly bumped into Daphne who was walking down the hallway. Harry told Hedwig to go ahead and give Hermione his letter as Daphne stopped in her tracks, completely astounded at the fact that he had been able to escape the school nurse.

"Why the hell are you standing here? How in the world did you get past Pomfrey?"

Harry simply smiled. "I used magic."

Daphne simply huffed and rolled her eyes at his specific response. "So, what are you going to do now?"

Harry hummed his confirmation, then said, "I want to tell you and our little group stuff. You go ahead to the Slytherin Dorms. I have to get Hermione."

Daphne wrinkled her nose. "Granger? Why would we bring her?"

"Because she's one of the smartest people I know," Harry said, then saw her glare as they walked down the hallway. "I said _one_ of the smartest people I know."

"But that doesn't mean that I'm one of those people," she replied rather haughtily. "You should really work on that Potter."

Harry simply smiled. "Yes, your Highness."

"Better," she said, smiling at his antics.

They approached the deathly stairs at an intersection, causing Harry to then say, "I guess that we'll meet at the Great Hall in about 10 minutes?"

"Well, you're the one who's leading whatever this is," was her only reply.

And so, they split paths, Daphne heading down the stairs, towards the dungeons where the Slytherin wing was while Harry headed up the stairs, towards the Ravenclaw tower. Hopefully, he'd be able to find Hermione in the Common Room.

He climbed the spiral staircase, passing several students who barely acknowledged him. After all, they were probably focused on their studies due to the fact that there were exams coming up. He approached the Ravenclaw Tower, seeing that there was an odd brass knocker on it. It was a rather bland door, made of white stone, though the most notable feature was that there was no lock nor knob. There was no peephole nor anything of that matter. It was simply an old brass knocker with an odd face engraved on it.

Harry moved to lift the knocker, but was stopped by a female voice. It was soft and rather pleasing to hear, causing Harry to be cautious. He had read of the sirens and their mesmerizing voices, as well as practiced something similar, layering his voice with magic. The only other creature that he believed was capable of this (outside of Sirens and Wizards) was the Fairy which was commonly mistaken for Leprechauns. There _were_ such things as wingless fairies.

"Don't touch it," the feminine voice commanded. "It will have dire consequences."

Not believing the knocker for a second, Harry softly moved away, not wanting to cause any trouble.

"There. That's a good wizard. Now," the brass knocker said, its metal face contorting rather grotesquely as it spoke, "answer me this. Which came first, the fire or the Phoenix?"

Harry thought for a second, knowing that it was essentially a trick question. There was no possible way for one to exist without the other. So perhaps, he could answer philosophically. After all, he loved his cryptic responses.

Phrasing his words rather carefully, he said, "A circle has no end or beginning, it just is there."

The brass knocker adopted a rather thoughtful expression. "Good answer. It seems like that Slytherin has rather clever people."

People around Harry looked on in interest, knowing that it was a rather rare occurrence for someone outside of Ravenclaw to properly take the time to answer the knocker's riddles. He thought he saw a degree of respect in their eyes, but it was probably a trick of light.

The door opened in a rather similar way to the Gryffindor portrait. Harry stepped through, taking in the sight of the Ravenclaw common room. It was nearly the opposite of the Slytherin Common Room. Instead of the rather dark appearance that the Slytherin's had (something that Harry rather liked), the room was bright, its primary colors being blue, white, and gold. There was a rather large statue in the center of a woman that Harry assumed to be Rowena Ravenclaw, one of the Four Founders. Harry could hear the wind and saw the view that the Tower offered. It was rather spectacular, looking over most of the notable structures in Hogwarts like the Quidditch pitch, the Forbidden Forest, and the Black Lake.

It was rather breathtaking, causing Harry to momentarily forget why he was at the Tower. Though, he was brought back to Earth when someone asked him, "What are you doing here?"

"Hmm?" Harry answered intelligibly, obviously having heard the question.

"I asked you, 'What are you doing here?" A rather male voice said from the side.

Turning, Harry identified that it was Terry Boot, a rather arrogant Ravenclaw that boasted of his intelligence despite never being taken seriously by his peers. He lacked an English accent, probably having moved to England recently, sounding rather American or Canadian.

Organizing his thoughts, Harry said, "Why, looking for ways to steal some books from your library of course."

"What?!" Was the outraged response that Harry received, making the Boy-Who-Lived pity him for being so gullible and naïve.

A voice from behind Harry then said, "He's winding you up, Terry."

Harry smiled. It was Hermione, though he was surprised when he turned around as he was slapped rather forcefully.

"Ouch!" Harry exclaimed, his hand cradling his head. "What was that for?"

"For getting hurt!" Hermione said, rather hotly before trapping Harry in a tight hug.

"Sorry?" Harry said, uncertainty creeping into his voice as he hesitantly put his arms around Hermione.

Hermione then pushed off of him and asked rather quickly, "What the hell are you doing out o the Medical Wing? Weren't you hurt rather badly? What happened that night, anyways? Why are you here?"

"Whoa," Harry said, making a placating gesture. "I can only answer one question at a time. Though before asking, I'd like to congratulate you for using rather bad language. What happened to you, Hermione, that you said that? Have you been put under the Compulsion Charm?"

"No, you prat." Hermione said. "Now, answer my questions."

"I was able, somehow, to persuade Pomfrey-" then saw her glare as they walked down the hall.

" _Madam_ Pomfrey," Hermione interrupted.

"To let me out with the potions I needed. Yes, I was hurt, though I can't discuss the details. I _can_ say that something or someone attached me, and I am here because you need to come with me."

"Oh," Hermione started, "Are you going to bring me to that room now, to do whatever you want?" Here she smiled rather sweetly.

"No, not that," was his only reply. "I have to tell you, and some of my other friends something about the troll."

Hermione looked a bit deflated as her remark didn't affect him, though brightened at the possibility of learning new spells. As a result, she then verbally agreed and followed him down to the Great Hall. For her, it was a rather odd experience because Harry didn't necessarily take the main hallways. He took some efficiently paths, paths that were hidden or took one of the many moving stairs that had always seemed risky.

Time passed and they found themselves at the Great Hall with three other Slytherins in a rather odd discussion. Harry motioned Hermione to follow him, no matter her hesitance to the other Slytherins.

As they approached, Blaise then acknowledged their presence, saying, "Harry. Granger."

"Zabini," was Hermione's response, uncharacteristically cold.

"So, are we ready?" Harry addressed them as a whole. He received several mutters and things of that sort. "Then let's eat, though Hermione, you should sit with us. It is, after all, relatively early in the morning."

Daphne started to say something, but cut herself off, knowing that Harry knew best when it came to revealing information. Hermione seemed to do the same thing while Blaise and Tracey simply seemed to have accepted this as they knew they'd get information, the Slytherins having been told that Harry would discuss _something_ with them _._

And so, they walked into the Great Hall, only one or two people eating. The teachers hadn't arrived, though they probably had the ghosts or the elves ready to alert them if anything went awry. But Harry and the people in his little group paid no attention to that particular detail, not that it was important anyways. Harry, thinking rather furiously as he tried to work out what he would do, sat down at the Slytherin, motioning for the others to do the same.

If there had been more people, many would be completely and utterly confused at the fact that there was a Ravenclaw sitting at the Slytherin table, but most wouldn't have said a thing considering the fact that it seemed as if Granger was under Harry's protection.

As he saw the others start to relax, eating as they waited for him to speak, Harry enlarged his bag and pulled out the books he had been reading. Books that were specifically from the Chambers. It was a rather good thing that no one seemed to be watching, but just in case someone was listening, Harry quickly cast several privacy charms with his lips just barely moving.

Distributing the books, giving the most harmless book to Hermione, Harry then said, "So to start off, I found this library several weeks ago. Daphne," the witch looked at him, "remember the time that I stayed in the Common Room overnight."

Her face was rather impassive as she thought about it and then a spark of curiosity appeared in her eyes. "Yeah."

"I was in that library, reading and grabbing books like these. So for the past few weeks, I've been- "

"What are you doing with a book on Dark spells?" Tracey asked rather hotly, her food momentarily forgotten and pointing at a spell that supposedly was able to cause a person's blood to boil. But he didn't mention that because he knew that there would probably be a bad reaction. He'd have to take this slow.

"Well," Harry said, suddenly withdrawing the books, "Before I explain, I'd like to say that this is better heard _without_ interruptions. The library, I discovered, was in a place built specifically for Slytherins, a place for them to train and study, though for what? I don't know. It's rather large, extending for miles down the school and it's rather a pain trying to find your way out. I read and studied, often going to the library. In between classes I've been improving my spell casting in terms of speed and accuracy as well as exploring the place the library was in."

"It worked in your favor after all," Blaise said as he grabbed one of the books that lay next to Harry's forgotten breakfast, understanding the interest that Harry had.

"What?" Hermione asked, obviously not having connected the pieces. She grabbed one of the books again, a book that contains the more violent spells. She gasped as she read them and immediately said, "These books have spells that could _kill someone!_ Why the hell haven't you reported this to the Headmaster?!"

That was a particularly odd reaction. He hadn't expected that she was going to curse. Odd. Very odd. Nonetheless, he was rather thankful that he had cast those privacy charms.

Even more unusual was that Daphne responded, obviously annoyed by the fact that Granger was still trying to follow the rules. "Why the hell would we do that? Tell me Granger, what would happen if you told the teachers about this?"

"They would confiscate the books, considering the fact that they are _**Dark**_ ," Hermione said, obviously not understanding again.

Harry sighed as Tracey simply looked on, eating rather cautiously, perhaps because she would be afraid that there would be an earth-shattering revelation. The Boy-Who-Lived then said, "Hermione, you have to understand." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "The teachers aren't always going to be there. Think of what we could do to another troll if the teachers weren't around. Look at what happened the night of the detention. What could I do against something, _someone,_ that threatened me if I were only restricted to the first-year spells?"

Hermione fell silent for a second then sighed. "Don't say those things."

Tracey, putting down her fork, then said, "He _does_ have a good argument, Hermione."

"But that doesn't mean that I have to like it."

"So," Harry said in a rather uncharacteristically happy tone after a moment of silence, as if nothing had happened, "there's something that I'd like to say. Personally, I believe that there is no Dark or Light in terms of magic, considering the fact that you could kill someone with the Levitating Charm or save a person with the Killing Curse."

Daphne, cutting Hermione off, then asked, "Can you explain?"

"Consider this. If you see a troll, _hypothetically_ ," he ignored the look from Hermione, "you could kill it with blunt force if you managed to keep it in place for about five seconds and levitate something hard above it, dropping it on the troll's head and shattering the skull. As for the Killing Curse, then take the instance of mercy killing."

"Makes sense," Blaise muttered, then rose his voice. "Then how would you classify the spells."

"I don't. Every spell can be used to kill some way or another. So I guess just separate them into spells that each year should master."

"Why?" Hermione asked, inquisitive as usual, though evidently abashed at the way that the Slytherins had picked her argument apart.

"Why what?" Harry responded.

"Why," Hermione started, "do you think that? The Ministry of Magic must have had their reasons to classify spells as Light and Dark?"

Going down to Muggle terms, Harry then said with what little knowledge of spells, "You've seen Star Wars, right Hermione?"

She hummed her acknowledgement.

"Then there are two sides, the Light and the Dark. The Light distances themselves from harmful spells despite looking to bring peace to the universe. This-"

"Makes perfect sense," Hermione interrupted. "They don't want to fall to the Dark side."

"But this gives their enemy an advantage over them," Harry rebutted. "If a Jedi was raised in the Dark, but believed in the Light, he wouldn't restrict himself from using Dark powers or whatever you'd call them. It's the _intent_ behind the spell that determines whether or not it's good or bad."

"But you didn't answer my second question."

Harry sighed again. "Have you seen the things they classify as Dark?"

Hermione shook her head.

"They've made _adoption_ rituals Dark just because they use the most miniscule amount of blood."

"Oh," was all the Ravenclaw said.

The Slytherins at the table, excluding Harry, had returned to their breakfast, listening with a half ear. Quickly the table fell silent as Harry and Hermione started to eat, not wanting to drag behind as they had a rather eventful day ahead of them. Harry discreetly took down the privacy charms, and finished his lunch, packing his things and left only one book on the table. After reading for some time, he felt soft pulses of magic as the other's breakfasts disappeared.

He put the book down and looked around, seeing that there still weren't that many people. Then he remembered something.

"Do you think that we should go to Professor Flitwick?"

"After all that," Daphne said, slightly scoffing in disbelief. "You're going to tell a teacher about this."

"No, Daphne. I was asking whether or not we should go ask the Professor if he could teach us how to duel." Harry said rather patiently.

"Oh yeah…" Daphne let her voice slowly fade.

"And why would we do that?" Tracey asked.

Oddly enough, Hermione answered her, cutting Harry off and saying, "It's because Professor Flitwick was one of the best duelers in the country until several years ago."

"Blaise? Tracey?" Harry then asked, not wanting them to feel left out. "Your opinions?"

The two agreed with the rest of the group, seeing the benefit of learning how to properly duel. Harry was rather happy as, for once, no one disagreed. Now, he hoped that the Professor said yes.

Suddenly, Harry gripped the table as something coursed through his mind. There was a rather beautiful woman standing in front of Harry. She wore rather short robes, obviously for duelling, with a wand in hand. Harry could feel the magic roll off her, oddly growing bolder from simply being in her presence.

"Back again?" She asked, her voice not unlike his when he put his magic into it.

"What?" Harry asked, his voice oddly deeper.

She laughed melodically, saying, "Your face," when Harry sent her a questioning look. "It's been a rather long time since I've done that, you see. But I'm here for a rather good reason."

"Which is?" Harry asked, the impossibility of this situation having been forgotten.

The lady strode over and sat down across of Harry. "My name is Death..."

"D-d-death?" Harry asked rather shakily, fear striking his heart.

The lady, Death, then said, "Yes, now get over it. This is what…" a paper appeared in her hand, "the fifteenth time you've died? Damn. You really have a problem, don't you? What in the world are you eating?"

"H-h-how- " Harry stammered, confused.

"A heart attack."

"B-b-but- "

"You didn't feel anything?" She asked in a rather insulting tone. "Now, do you think that you know better than the person who was able to appear out of thin air with an obvious understanding of what happened? Seriously?"

Harry stammered, looking for words and was taken aback by her sudden burst of laughter.

Tears streaming down her face, the lady said, "Oh, _that_ was hilarious. No, Harry, my name is Morgan and you are of my line."

"And this means?" Harry asked rather sceptically, wondering why she was visiting him and why she pointed that particular detail out, that he was a Le Fay. It should also be noted that he was rather annoyed by the fact that he had been, essentially, pranked.

"This means that you have the ability to access my personal records. I believe that you're familiar with the term, 'one with the Force,' considering the fact that you rather brilliantly used the movies to explain your thoughts." It wasn't a question.

Harry nodded.

"Then I'd like to say that I'm one with Magic, all things considered. I'm more of an entity that roams the world, chosen by Magic to help my descendants."

"And why you specifically?" Harry asked.

"Because," she practically sang, "I'm one of the few people in this world who have descended from beings of pure magic. Now, this sounds like a load of bullshit, doesn't it?"

Harry was surprised by the language, but nodded nonetheless.

"Good. It means that you don't trust everything that a random being says. But I'm telling the truth here. Magic itself manifested itself into beings that roamed the Earth, beings that looked oddly like humans but were pure magical constructs with a sense of sentience. Now, some married Muggles which produced the normal wizards and witches while a few interbred which produced people like Merlin and me."

Harry didn't believe this. He was a product of interbreeding. Fuck.

Le Fay laughed. "No, Harry, you aren't. But considering the fact that you are from my line, you should have received several, let's say, unique gifts."

"Is there an example of these gifts?" Harry asked, rather interested by the fact that he had hidden talents.

"Well, there's one that you are intimately familiar with. The fast healing is something, healing that encompasses all sorts of injuries from Dark spells to things caused by normal everyday things like spears. Now, I have to go, I have something to take care of. Just expect more 'gifts' to come and for me to visit you tonight."

Odd. Very, very odd. Suddenly, the lady disappeared and Harry found himself clutching the table, his friends looking on in concern.

Hermione then asked, "Harry? Do you need to go back to Madam Pomfrey?"

Harry looked up, letting go of the table and flexing his fingers. "No. No, I'm fine. I just…saw something. It doesn't matter," he straightened himself. "Let's go."

* * *

A/N: Essentially 6,000 fucking words. Damn. Thanks for reading, as usual, and please review. It helps.

Hopefully, this chapter isn't as contrived, convoluted, bad, and excessive as I think it is (meaning that it probably is). I personally believe that I went a bit overboard with the tensions between Hermione and Daphne despite the fact that they _are_ only eleven years old. In the same respect, I tried to actually get Daphne to manipulate Hermione, but it shows that it's _not_ my forte. I'll work on it. God, I still blabber on.

Yes, I used Star Wars references. No I don't pay attention to the dates of the movie. Somehow Harry knows these things.

This is a good story. ID:6289435

Interesting fact: Authors can review their _own_ stories. Completely and oddly weird.

 **BrotherCaptainShepherd:** This _is_ and will be a Daphne/Harry story. I am not considering making it a Harry/multi story though. I'm working on the pairing, trying to keep Harry from forming too close of a bond with Hermione.

 **Kamuk5 _:_** Thank you.

 **stars90:** The impacts will be more obvious in the next chapter. Sorry about that. Though, there's something rather off about Harry in this chapter. He seems a bit too happy.

 **For those interested:** Originally, it wasn't unicorn's blood, but I liked the concept, so I changed it. At first, I was going to say it was some random potion concoted by the centaurs, but saw the problems with that. If Quirrelmort was able to brew the potion, then it would show the utter sadism as he would be able to torture a person repeatedly, bringing them back from the edge before torturing them again. It's an endless cycle.

 **ProCaptured:** I'm not particularly sure about this chapter.

 **gabrieljuarezel:** Thanks.

 **Smutley-Do-Wrong:** Yay! I wanted to show people that Harry is dangerous to the other students. And thank you for the second paragraph.

 **Who Are You What Do You Want:** Yes. He's not untouchable. And thanks for liking it so far.

 **A Small Voice:** Obliviate? No. Voldemort wouldn't want him to forget of the experience.


	13. Dueling His Emotions

A/N: A bloody fucking record. 3,600-ish words in about 7 or 8 days.

* * *

He walked up to the Ravenclaw Tower and answered the riddle, having been the same as the one earlier in the morning, and found himself standing in front of Professor Flitwick's office. He knocked and waited, Tracey and Daphne having a discussion on politics, Blaise standing there as he flicked his wand this way and that as he mentally practiced spells, and Hermione simply looked back and forth as if nervous. After all it was understandable for Harry. She didn't want to confront teachers because they seemed to be the most knowledgeable beings in school, the commanders of the entire class. But it could get in the way of several things, although she, after the troll, _did_ lie to three members of the staff, including the Headmaster and one of her favourite teachers for personal gain. Perhaps, he'd be able to lessen her sudden dependence on authority figures.

On a similar note, he'd have to show Daphne that were capable of doing what wizards and witches could do, to some extent, and doing so much more. But that would be for another time and place. There were more pressing matters like his mind. Things that he shouldn't think about. Things that he shouldn't remember, and yet, he did. He could remember everything that they had done to him, every bad thing that _everyone_ had done to him. Taking a shaky breath, he forced his mind to think about something else. Like the fact that there seemed to be a dark wizard out for him, specifically Voldemort. Perhaps, he'd have to go to Dumbledore about it. But not right now. He needed to learn more about his newfound 'powers' and had to owl Gringotts about the history of the Le Fay line.

His train of thought crashed into a sudden wall as the door opened.

"Mr. Potter!" the rather vertically challenged professor said in a rushed tone, "I didn't expect you to be out and about today, especially from the things that I had heard."

"Well," Harry chuckled rather uncomfortably with the fact that all this was being said out in the open, "I've been known to heal quickly. Would you mind if we came in?"

"Of course not!" the professor said, his eyes showing that he immediately understood the reason behind the question.

Harry then said, "We have a question to ask. Would you be willing to train us?"

"Train you?" Flitwick said, obviously retreating back into his mind. Hermione shifted uncomfortably, Tracey and Daphne stood there looking at the two figures having their discussion, and Blaise simply fiddled with his wand. "Perhaps," the professor said after some time, drawling, "but why would you want me to train you? You could, after all, ask McGonagall or Snape."

"But Professor McGonagall," Harry started, gathering his thoughts, "simply has a penchant for Transfiguration." Immediately he made a placating gesture for an unclear reason. "But that doesn't mean that she doesn't know how to duel. She'd probably tell us to focus on using our surroundings and to change objects into deadly creatures—not that there's anything wrong with that. As for Professor Snape, he would probably use… _questionable_ spells. And he is rather intimidating which means that he wouldn't be particularly helpful to Hermione when it comes to teaching. She, along with us, need someone who has the ability to reprimand us without being too harsh." Harry sighed and ran his hands through his hair. "You, as a Dueler in the past, would have experience in using surroundings, moving about, and fighting properly. As for the array of spells, I'm not particularly sure. And due to your reputation as a Dueler, then you _must_ have mentored a person or two."

"You didn't answer his question," Daphne butted it, smiling for no reason whatsoever.

"Hmm? Oh yeah." Harry then recited the reason he had come up with. "It's because of the fact that because I have somehow become involved in _dangerous_ events in the past week or so, I'd like to be able to defend myself properly. I brought my friends along because of the fact—"

"-you don't want them hurt," Professor Flitwick said, nodding. "Well said and reasoned Mr. Potter. You have persuaded me, after all, it _does_ seem like you get into quite a bit of trouble, though don't expect that to continue. I, along with the rest of the staff, shall do their best to keep you from being put into danger. On that note, when should we start?"

"Start?" Harry asked, glancing over at his friends, obviously and silently asking for input.

Blaise then said, "Now, perhaps?"

The rest voiced their agreement and Harry then voiced the decision. Flitwick walked over to his desk and shuffled some papers about. Incomprehensibly muttering, the professor walked about the room, opening drawers, looking for things. It was rather astonishing, the speed at which he walked, crossing the room in nearly twice the speed that Harry could. Suddenly he stopped in the middle of his room, a bag in his hand and wand in the other.

"Best get on with it, I suppose," the professor said rather quietly. He then raised his voice, conjuring chairs and a blackboard as he flicked his wand, clearing a space and put his bag down. "Come over here. Today, we'll just talk about the basics. What we should and shouldn't do, the spells to use, etc."

Harry could hear him say, "Merlin, it's been a rather long time since I've done this."

Suddenly, he felt a surge of magic and immediately rolled to one side, something taking control of his body. He saw a red bolt of magic just barely pass him as Hermione and Blaise immediately hit the ground. Tracey and Daphne attempted to run towards an object for cover but were nicked by what Harry believed to be stunners. Oddly enough, he felt his magic singing to him, telling him what to do. Casting a brief shield spell, Harry was able to stop another spell as he focused on conjuring birds out of thin air. _Avis!_ He intoned as he ran, somehow conjuring a metal shield, like the one that he had seen Voldemort do. There was no incantation, no spell. It seemed entirely based upon his will. Using the shield, he was able to effectively deflect any spells that the diminutive professor threw at him. Feeling magic suddenly splash behind him, he cast _Expelliarmus_ rather quickly, not bothering to use the incantation. It bounced harmlessly against a shield of the professor's. Harry let his magic freely flow from him, using the shield to properly block any spells and casting spells at a rather hurried rate, aiming to disarm and not dismember. It was a professor that he was facing. A thought striking him, Harry then cast a spell, a spell that he had found in the library. He felt his magic flow freely out of his wand, his eyes glowing green.

The effects of the spell were obvious and immediate, effectively acting as a widespread levitation charm which normally rendered people as useless. But instead, from peeking from behind the shield, Harry suddenly saw a flash of red and moved to block it before his shield vanished, and his world turned black.

Several minutes later

Harry awoke to the words, _Rennervate_. The others looked at him strangely, as if he had done something that should have been impossible. Professor Flitwick, on the other hand, seemed rather happy and surprised. "Well, Mr. Potter," he began in a jolly tone, "you lasted far longer than I thought. One day, you _have_ to tell me what spell you used to cause everything in the room to levitate. I certainly have to say that your reflexes and speed are rather quick for your age."

"Thanks?" Harry said, unsure what to think right now. One minute, the professor was attacking them and the next, he was effectively acting like his normal self. What the hell just happened?

"I suppose that all four of you are wondering why I effectively attacked you?" he said, motioning for them to sit down and letting the chalkboard move to his height. It allowed him to write down three specific points.

The diminutive professor suddenly said _Accio,_ summoning a rather odd sphere that glowed softly, electricity seeming to spark within it. By the time that it reached him, with use of the Levitation Charm, Flitwick suddenly put his wand to the orb and tapped it, scrolling through what seemed like pictures. He then asked, "Does anyone know what this is?"

"A Recording Orb," Hermione said when no one else spoke up.

"Correct, Ms. Granger. You four should know that these things are rather common. They're just expensive. As for right now, we'll be watching the duel. The mistakes you made, the things you did correctly, and how you four should improve. By far, and obviously, Harry did the best in terms of the duel but also made numerous mistakes."

The memory was projected against a clearing on the wall and Harry saw the entire duel. He saw the professor furiously casting and his past self barely managing to keep up. The others looked in awe at the magic that Harry performed, creating a widespread Levitation Charm that would be able to properly render an opponent helpless.

The professor then said, after summoning and writing on a chalkboard, "I'll have a schedule up for you and I'll notify your other professors. But for now, I'll go over the things that Harry did correctly. First, he dodged. Does anyone care to tell me why that is something that everyone should do?

Daphne then said, "Because of the fact that dodging your spell is your best bet. There's less magic being used and guarantees a survival chance because a conjured object could explode, leading to further injury caused by your own actions."

Flitwick laughed rather joyously. "Well done, you two. Yes, you're right. Dodging spells is the best possible reaction to a spell being cast at you. This means that the four of you will have to work on not only your reflexes, but your endurance considering the fact that you'll be doing a lot of running around and things of that sort. Now, you shouldn't entirely neglect the act of blocking spells. _Protego_ is an effective shield, the jack of trades when it comes to blocking spells. But there are more specific spells that require a specific spell to properly block else any shield charm is rendered in effective.

"The next thing that Harry did properly was creating a distraction. Considering the fact that I have a rather frightening rate at firing spells, or so I'm told, and that I underestimated Mr. Potter's abilities, I was momentarily distracted, allowing Harry to properly establish a form of permanent protection. After this, notice that he used _Expelliarmus_ , a rather efficient spell that many overlook. They focus on extremely powerful spells and tend to tire themselves out, though amateurs instead of true duelists.

"Moving onto the flaws in the entire duel, why shouldn't you simply disarming your opponent?"

Blaise answered that made Hermione obviously worry due to the complete confidence that it was said with. "They still have the ability to kill you using physical interaction or wandless magic."

"Yes! What _should_ you do?"

Harry then said, "Killing them."

"A bit less drastic, Mr. Potter," was all Flitwick said, not bothering to say that it was out of question. "Not in this instance as you'd typically violate the rules set in place."

"Injure them until they can't move anymore?" Tracey asked, then added, "Or knock them out?"

"That's what I'm looking for. Preferably knock them out or subdue them because these two actions wouldn't obviously violate the rules. But injuring them until they can't move is a suitable alternative if they use lethal force. Killing them is a choice up to you, depending on several factors like the lethality of their spells and the kind of person you're dueling, but doing it mercifully is preferable. It'd be akin to social suicide as people would then shun you and fear you, scared that you'd attack them. Though there is the alternative, shown by Mr. Potter's choice of spell. Simply rendering them unable to properly aim and cast would be able to allow you, as first-years, to end the duel. Considering the fact that at the age of eleven, you typically wouldn't be fighting anyone too dangerous, using _Locomotor Mortis,_ the Leg-Locking Curse, or _Petrificus Totalus_ , the body-binding curse, are your best bets when it comes to dueling.

"There's another thing that Harry shouldn't have done and that would be his insistence to cast spells instead of pulling his ace out by the time I was distracted. This prevented him from being able to properly subdue me. If he had been able to cast the spell while I was distracted, then perhaps I would have been subdued. That also bring me to another point. Don't underestimate your opponents because…"

And so, the session went on, Professor Flitwick discussing things of all sorts, giving them the basics of dueling. He talked about the which spells they were and they weren't to use until they were sufficiently able to do quickly cast them, about the basic uses of spell chains and things of that nature. He discussed the various rules that could be erected and the ways that they could be worked around. There were all sorts of things, but he mainly wanted to focus on their bodies, the act of staying in shape being a necessity for his tutoring. But the one thing that the Recording Orb, thankfully, hadn't picked up was the Parseltongue spell that he had used.

By the time that they finished analyzing the fight and discussing the basics of dueling, it was already lunch. To be more exact and to show how much time had passed, they had gone into Flitwick's office at around 8:30 am and left around 12:30 pm. Harry suggested a race because, after all, they had to quickly get to lunch. Flitwick probably would have his own methods. The others agreed and by the time that they reached the Great Hall, everyone other than Harry was sweating profusely and breathing heavily.

"How the bloody hell do you manage, Potter?" Daphne asked, casting several spells to clean herself up, the others following suit.

"Uh," Harry eloquently started, "You get used to it."

"After?" she asked, raising an eyebrow as she continued to cast several charms on herself.

"After you do it your entire life," was all that Harry said offhandedly, not caring that he had said such a thing as he resized his bag.

They then walked through the Great Hall doors, each paying no attention to the people who were staring at them suspiciously. Let the rumours come. It wouldn't affect them, everything considered. Harry had just miraculously recovered from a seemingly fatal injury (the majority of the school not knowing what had truly happened) and he had killed a troll singlehandedly. No one should affect them.

Sitting down at the Slytherin table, Tracey and Daphne started to talk while Blaise found a book to read. Harry ate his food slowly, not paying attention to anything around him. He was thinking. Thinking of the night. Out of nowhere, he could hear his parents scream again, he could hear them sob over and over. Uncle and Aunt's voice echoed in his mind, remembering their laughter as they hit him again and again. He could hear them shouting at him, feel the pure pain and utter hopelessness as he cried himself to sleep night after night. He felt his heart speed up and sweat trickle down his head, sitting there at the Slytherin table. His food suddenly became abysmal, immediately spitting it out as he remembered the dreams with Voldemort. He was scared by the sadistic pleasure he felt when he saw the Dark Lord's victims scream and sob, when he brought them to the edge of sanity only to revoke them the satisfaction of becoming mentally carefree. But the sadism, pleasure, and euphoria, those weren't his feelings, right? They were supposed to be Voldemort's.

Then why the hell did they feel so real? So, genuine? He felt his mind fraying again as memories of abuse, violation, and pure disgust ran through his mind. He could feel something skim his mind, probe it, not unlike the Sorting Hat's. He looked towards the Staff Table and oddly focused on Dumbledore. From a distance, he saw great pain behind the Headmaster's eyes, the sorrow behind them. But he didn't care. No one could see him cry. He didn't pay attention to their eyes, the ones that stared at him while he stood up, wiped his mouth and left the Great Hall, practically running out. He didn't see Daphne rise and follow him, Hermione simply sit there as she was immersed in her book, and the rest of the Great Hall look at him. He didn't care. His heart leapt in fright, a stone dropping in his stomach when he heard Daphne call out. She couldn't see him like this, not like _him_. Only a select few could only know of the things that he had gone through. He ran, tripping as he felt a spell hit him. Why hadn't he felt that?

"Harry? Anything you want to talk about?" she asked, using the Levitation Charm to put Harry in an empty classroom and cast a _Finite Incantatum_. "Now, don't run away, Potter. It's a bit too late for that."

Harry's eyes flicked this way and that, avoiding hers entirely as he sat down on the floor, not liking the state of the chairs.

"Harry," she drawled an odd tone entering her voice as she put her wand away. "Tell me. Don't be afraid."

The wizard pulled out his wand and cast several charms, charms that obscured sound and prevented people from noticing them. Charms that he had learned in the library. "What?" he asked.

"It's your turn to tell a story," she said, reminding him of the way that he had pressed her for information on her father.

Harry could hear them scream again and again. He could feel their jeers and felt his mind crumple. His mental defenses collapsed and the dam holding back the tears, the resolve, failed. They violently burst out, causing the only witch in the room to embrace the wizard. He tried to push her away halfheartedly, but eventually gave up when he could feel sobs wracking his body. When he finally did find control, his sobs stopped, Daphne let go and looked up, taking in the glowing green eyes and the messy hair. His scar seemed more…rigid and seemingly brutal than normal.

"Harry?" she asked, softly.

"Hmm?" he said, obviously being drawn out of his thoughts, "oh yeah." His body shuddered as he took in a deep breath. "It's just that I remember things that I shouldn't have, things are better hidden,"

Daphne looked at him. "Are you sure you can't talk about it?"

"Yeah, one day, perhaps." Harry managed to force out, shakily. He couldn't tell her, even if she was her friend.

Daphne then wrapped her arms around Harry, taking advantage of the situation.

And as she did so, she felt something being set free

As for Harry, it felt like there was something of him being completed, something in his magic that was being filled. It was…unusual, to say the least. Harry could feel something _touch_ his magic and heal his mental cracks. The images were being driven away by something so pure that Harry had no words to describe it. And suddenly it was over, the two looking at each other in awkward silence having separated immediately.

"So," Harry said all of a sudden, "what to do now? We can't exactly go back together."

Daphne sighed. "Yeah, you're right. But do you think that we should really go back?"

"Well that's a novel idea," Harry said, exploring the possibility of going back into the Chambers and then he realized the extent of his stupidity. "Let's go to the library."

"The school library or…" Daphne's voice trailed off.

"Yes, that one. I'll have to bring the others down at a separate time."

Daphne thought about it for a second and said, "Sure."

Harry reached for his wand and cast a quick _Tergeo_ on the two of them, cleaning his tears from their clothes. Daphne thanked him as they started to make their way towards the first entrance that Harry had found. The hallways were deserted, no living thing in the halls except the two of them.

As they approached the sign, Daphne started to feel uncomfortable. "Harry?"

"Yes?" Harry asked, completely oblivious to the charms and wards in place.

"I, uh, think that I should be somewhere else," Daphne said, causing him to start looking at her strangely. Grabbing her wrist despite her protests, a thought struck Harry and words coalesced in his mind amongst the emotions that still swirled around.

§Admit her§ Harry said, speaking in Parseltongue. The witch visibly relaxed but she looked at him in alarm causing Harry to ask what was wrong.

"I hope that you aim to keep that a secret," Daphne said, "It's reputation precedes its usefulness."

Harry simply hummed in acknowledgement, not stopping for a second to wonder how she knew that it was Parseltongue in the first place. He motioned for her to come over as the wall opened up to reveal a massive tube.

"You want me to go in the tube annddd-" was all that she said before she shrieked, having been pushed down the tube by a smiling Harry Potter. He'd pay for that later, somehow. But he didn't care as he jumped down the tube after a good minute or so, shouting his descent to warn her.

* * *

A/N: Obviously, the most sloppy part of this chapter was the combat scene. Harry's breakdown is somewhat believable, somewhat, in my opinion is the very best that I can do. I'll just consult my sources (other fanfics) for ways to improve. And for those who hate Hermione. Might as well stop trying to set fires, albeit small fires. In all seriousness, you'd best simply leave as Hermione's already been a bloody part of the entire story and will continue to be. She just needed demoralization, a bit of arguing and stuff like that. I understand that there are people who absolutely want to destroy her, calling her a mudblood and killing her off, but instead, I'd prefer to see if I can either break her off properly or make her understand that rules should be broken when necessary. And I did nothing to defend myself for the most part, just made everything worse. **Review please.**

This book, story, fanfic, whatever, will pay attention to whatever is CANON.

I kind of went a bit overboard with the breakdown, I _think._

 **Smutley-Do-Wrong:** Fair enough. I guess that slapping him was a 'bit' excessive. And thanks for stuff, the Morgana thing was something that was fun to write and came to me at the last second. The wonders that imagination does for you...

 **Zicou:** Thanks. Hopefully this chapter is just good enough.

 **Marenhide:** Yes, it does serve the plot to explain as to why they aren't attracted to each other. The sense of camaraderie between them due to their intelligence and academic devotion serves as a dangerous thing, a fine line to walk. Having something plausible, something to keep them apart would be useful to me as it gives Harry, in turn, a reason to fall back on when a person asks him why he didn't become romantically involved with Harry. Now, like the books, it could be that they don't 'click,' but that's a fuzzy area for me, considering the fact that there could be a plethora of reasons as to why they didn't click. I prefer to deal with absolutes, wanting to make Hermione seem like this person that he can go to, a sister or mother perhaps, for help or for information and receive it out of compassion unlike, say, Daphne, who would be hesitant to offer any form of affection without groundwork or rules. I am sticking to canon-somewhat.

 **Riddicks-gurl1998:** Thanks. It'll be in the next upcoming chapters, but hopefully you won't wait too long.

 **BrotherCaptainShepherd:** Yes, I did.

 **gabrieljuarezl** : Thank you.

 **kamui5:** Probably the next chapter. Perhaps it'll be in about a week or two. Thanks by the way.

 **Aetemus:** Whatever Hermione did _does not_ count in this story as none of it has happened. Ramming her face up the rear orifice...*chuckle* No, you won't read enless paragraphs, just a brief blurb or two a couple of times for realism's sake.

 **plums:** I really do like that "I'm Still Here," so I guess I'll develop thick skin and simply say that no one contacted their parents in the books, here they don't know about it.

 **Gime'SS:** Thanks.

 **Vi38:** Thank you.

Side note: I should really find a better way to thank people.

 **Rosalind Fairchilde** : Thank you for pointing that out. I do wonder what I was thinking. Hopefully the revised chapters are better.

I'm somewhat drowsy, so my writing quality may or may not be as good. Nighty night. I have more stuff to do in the morning.

Cheers

HHS


	14. Fuck You, Potter

A/N: Am I going to curse this time? No. I just wanted to point out the fact that I was able to write a 4,000-ish word chapter in _three_ days without any proper planning beforehand, just a few stray thoughts. I'm rather proud of myself. Let's see if my efforts have been able to create a rather decent chapter. Side note: I'm exploring different parts of the characters, adding stuff and emphasizing the visions.

* * *

Harry brushed off the dust on his clothes and stretched his feet, finding an irate blonde witch glaring at him, obviously wanting to murder him in cold blood.

"Daphne?" he asked, rather unnerved by the snake-like gaze she had directed towards him.

"Fuck you, Potter," Daphne said, walking over and punching him in the arm. Apparently, she was mad that she had been pushed down the tube. Who knew?

"Such language is unbefitting for a young girl," Harry said, mocking Professor McGonagall. He immediately burst out in laughter, causing Daphne to do the same, breaking her stare.

"You still owe me," she stated after she had gained a semblance of control, her tone softening.

Harry nodded. "Sure. Just don't ask about what happened earlier. Please."

Daphne acknowledged the statement, saying that she understood and then asked, "What is this place?"

All around her were shelves upon shelves of books. "A library?" she asked.

"Well, where else would you find books like this?" Harry asked. "One of the many Chambers down here. You know, I've been trying to count the number of rooms this entire network or tunnels have and there are too many to count."

Daphne walked over to one of the nearest books, picking one up with the title, _Curses for Beginners,_ but she wouldn't know that considering the fact that it was written in Parseltongue. She ran her finger along its spine and opened the book, seeing numerous nonsensical lines that supposedly formed lines.

"Harry?" she asked, motioning for him to come over. "What does this say?"

"Wait a second," Harry said, pulling out his wand. "One of the manuals I found somewhere over there," he waved his wand in a general direction, "said that it's possible for a Parseltongue to use magic to translate most of the books in this library, with a few exceptions. Apparently, it was something that Salazar Slytherin—"

" _Salazar Slytherin?_ " Daphne asked in awe.

"Yes, Daphne, Salazar Slytherin. The person who helped create Hogwarts. I thought you knew who he was," Harry said, adopting a rather confused look and a tone that suggested that he was talking to a small child.

"Shut up."

"But then I can't explain stuff," Harry whined.

'You know what I mean."

"Well, it was something that Salazar Slytherin, one of the Four Founders, developed. As a result, it seems as if the spells in the books have the ability to be translated into the language that we call Latin though from the harmless spells that I've used, they seemed to be underpowered."

"Underpowered?" Daphne said, curiosity sparkling behind her eyes.

"Yes, underpowered. For example, the spell that I used on the troll, the Organ Liquifying Curse, is less potent and is not as dangerous when spoken in Latin instead of Parseltongue. It's still fatal, mind you, though it requires more power to achieve the same effect when spoken in a language other than Parseltongue. As for the more harmless fields of magic, things like sticking charms are stronger when spoken in Parseltongue and is combined with intent," Harry explained as he tapped the book that Daphne was holding with his wand. He spoke a phrase in the language of the snakes and the strange lines suddenly melted into words that she could decipher.

Taking a glance, she was opened to a 'beginner' curse, one that could harm but not fatally. "Is there a possible way for _me_ to translate these pages?"

Harry thought for a moment and cast a quick _Point-Me_ spell, motioned for Daphne to stay put and followed the direction that his wand directed him. He came back a minute or two with a small scrap of paper in hand. "Well," he said, looking up and down the paper, "it seems there is. Just say, _Aaslin_ while touching the book with your wand."

" _Aaslin_?" Daphne questioned. "That doesn't seem like Latin."

"Well, who knows. Just try it."

Daphne spoke the spell, following the instructions, and she saw the words immediately shift into Parseltongue.

Harry suddenly said, "To turn it into English, say _Anigles_."

She did the same thing, knowing to touch the book, and she saw the lines turn into English. She then tucked it into her arm, a thought striking her. "Is it possible for a person to learn Parseltongue?"

"if any of the books say that, then I haven't come across it," Harry admitted, seeing the possibilities that learning the language could open, mentally promising himself to see if there were any books. "Perhaps…"

"Can I take any books?" Daphne asked, loving books, though not to the extent that Harry and Hermione showed.

"Definitely," Harry said, "It's not as if these books are mine. Technically, it's Hogwarts'."

Daphne walked around and picked a few books from the shelves, accepting the bag that Harry procured from his satchel which caused her to raise her eyebrow. "And why in Merlin's name do you carry a bag within your bag?"

"Well, maybe I need things. Anyways, there's an Enlargement Charm in here, so all that I have to do is just will it to come up and it does," Harry said matter-of-factly.

"Just hope that no one hits it with a _Finite Incantatem_ ," Daphne simply replied, causing Harry to suddenly worry about that possibility. It simply wouldn't do to have all of his things spill out of his bag, despite the fact that there wasn't much stuff in there. Any potions he might be carrying would spill out and their vials would break.

"Let's go back," Harry said, causing Daphne to send him a questioning look. "Unless, you want to go see the other places."

"Well, I certainly do," Daphne said, slinging the bag around her shoulders. "Where to?"

"I guess, the private studies," Harry said after thinking for a moment and motioned for her to follow him.

Crawling through the weaving maze of halls and rooms, Harry somehow managed to guide Daphne along and maintain that sense of awe. Often times, she would be on the receiving end of a sarcastic comment and retorted in the only way she knew how, immediately shutting Harry up. Other than the often-unnerving atmosphere that some of the rooms had like the eerily silent dining room, which was rather small, and the many rooms filled with paintings, there was still that childish excitement that Daphne showed. Obviously curious at the things that Harry was showing, she seemed to be coming out of character, rather carefree and simply inquisitive. Oddly, she seemed to want to know _everything_ about this place, surprising Harry. He thought that she'd dismiss it as being one of the many secrets, but perhaps this was a side of her that showed before her father's absolutely ludicrous mistake. What the hell could he do in order to help Daphne out? Bring her under his House protection? Life-debt? No, only in the most extreme situations, where her life truly mattered. She couldn't be put at risk for something so insignificant as a marriage contract because it was a _life_ versus a piece of parchment that forced her to marry. The former was more important.

Harry could feel the onslaught of one of his dreams. His mind began to hurt, his scar throbbed. His vision suddenly turned hazy and he could feel _something_ coursing in his body. He suddenly stopped in the middle of the hallway, for they were heading towards the main chamber, and hurriedly grabbed a potion that Snape had given him. He had only four left. He immediately turned to a bewildered Daphne and said, "Plug your ears just in case."

Daphne did just that right before he downed the potion, seeing his grimace at the disgusting potion that he had just swallowed. Suddenly, as if being tortured by an invisible assailant, he fell on the ground and convulsed, but he didn't scream. She immediately crouched beside him and tried to mutter words of comfort, yet failed as her eyes haunted as if she were seeing a ghost once again. She could see Astoria's body again, causing tears to stream down her face.

Unbeknownst to her, Harry could see himself slowly walking towards the Statue of Slytherin, uttering the words in Parseltongue, §Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four.§

Suddenly the Statue seemed to melt into to the ground, leaving a massive snake with mesmerizingly glowing eyes standing among various skeletons that had obviously belonged to various small, miniscule animals that had managed to make their way into the Chambers. It stood there, belittling Harry, towering over everything in sight. It was rather hard to accurately measure the lizard, but Harry guessed about 50 to 60 feet. How the hell Voldemort managed to tame the thing, Harry didn't know nor did he want to figure out. But he'd have to check it out.

§Master,§ it hissed intimidatingly, §Who shall be the next victim?§

The snake slowly swayed its body side to side, providing an oddly satisfying experience. Harry could feel Death on this creature, the evil that festered in its mind.

Harry then felt himself respond, §Perhaps the small girl who often cries in the bathroom upstairs. The disgusting mudblood has defied my friends too many times. §

§We shall remove these vermin from the castle.§

§Yes, King of Serpents, we certainly will.§

The dream ended with Harry hearing a scream, people shout in fear, and a sense of pure satisfaction; a smile forming across Harry's cruel lips.

The vision ended and Harry's convulsions stopped. He slowly opened his eyes only to see Daphne's tear stained face. He immediately got up, helping Daphne do the same and embraced her, softly shushing her and emitting soft calming noises.

"It's okay," he said, over and over, not realizing what had just happened. She was also having her own visions, just those of pain and suffering. Visions that uncovered memories that should have been long buried.

Slowly, so very slowly, her sobs stopped and they separated. Daphne said, "It seems that we are both crybabies."

Harry smiled softly. "It seems we are."

"What the hell happened to you this time?" She asked, her eyes still speaking of pain and long suffering.

"A vision that was nothing of importantance and that I definitely am _not_ a Seer. I just see things in the past."

"The past?" she uncertainly asked, obviously wondering what to do with this information.

"Yeah. Just forget about it."

She simply nodded. "Are you okay?"

Harry smiled sweetly. A bit too sweetly. "Nothing I can't handle. Let's get back to them."

They then made their way into the main chamber, Daphne looking in curiosity and awe at the massive statue that stood erect in the center of the room. The room was built entirely out of stone with impressive arches and an elaborate dome at the top. It seemed breathtaking, something that Harry never got used to, especially when he was running from that massive lizard in the statue. Harry hissed for the exit and they made their way up, ending up in the girl's bathroom.

"Why are we in the girl's bathroom?" Daphne asked, looking around and noticing a small, ghostly head peeking out from behind a stall.

"Who knows," was all that Harry said.

Weaving in between the crowds, they were able to make their way to the first floor. Here, they left, Daphne knowing that Harry had to do something and Harry thinking of the things that he had seen. He could feel the sadistic pleasure of the things that Voldemort did. He loved the power that the Dark wizard held over their lives, their peace and pain. He could certainly get used to that…

'Snap out of it,' Harry thought to himself. 'This isn't you talking.'

Using the _Point-Me_ spell again, he was able to find himself at the very front of the Headmaster's office. At the supposed entrance, there was a rather intimidating Gargoyle. Thankfully, they were an extinct species, creatures that died out as their homes were destroyed due to human growth. They killed and mutilated thousands, if not millions, matching the goblins for their ferocity and blood thirst

Looking around, he didn't find any latch nor switch. There seemed to be a password.

"Now how in the world am I going to talk to the Headmaster?" Harry asked, and as if one cue, the Gargoyle moved aside as a staircase swirled into existence.

Harry then heard the Headmaster's old, gruff voice say, "Come in, Harry. I believe that I need your assistance."

 _My assistance?_ Harry mentally asked, there seemed to be no particular reason for such a thing. After all, he considered the most powerful wizard of the modern ages. What could a mere eleven-year-old do for him.

Harry quickly climbed the stairs, taking two at a time, his nerves on end. He didn't necessarily trust the wizard after the fact that he had left the Mirror of Erised out in the open. But, after all, the senile Wizard had only treated him with kindness and understanding. He did deserve a detention for that particular incident.

Opening the door at the very top of the steps, Harry took in the sight. There sat the wizened Wizard on a mahogany desk filled to the brim with stacks of papers and baubles of all sorts that clinked and plinked, beeped and buzzed. On the opposite side of the desk were shelves arranged in semi-circles proudly boasting the numerous books that it could hold while there were more of those odd devices.

Off to the Wizard's side was a Phoenix on his perch, looking rather aged from the charts that Harry had seen. Perhaps today was its Burning Day. But that would take a rather massive amount of luck on Harry's part. Behind Dumbledore was an elevated platform where there were all sorts of things, things that ranged from scrolls to charts and diagrams to various artifacts. Harry could feel the magic that saturated the room and shivered at the warm feeling that was a direct result of that saturation.

The charms and wards in place were rather mild, focusing on calming the people within the room. Harry would have done the same thing if he were Headmaster. It would make dealing with irate students and/or staff easier. Though, its effects weren't enough to subdue any emotion, just strong enough to promote happiness. In that sense, it was rather like an automatic Calming Draught.

"Harry, my boy, sit down. I have something I need to discuss with you." Dumbledore's tone was grave. As Harry complied, the Headmaster said, "I've heard of the incident two nights ago, and I, concerned for your health, want to know if I could do anything for you. After all, it's the least that I could do for your troubles."

"No, Headmaster," Harry said, "there's nothing that I want you to do for me. I'm perfectly fine."

"Respectfully, I doubt that, Harry, child. I've seen, firsthand, the effects that the Cruciatus has on wizards and witches far older than you. Excuse my repetition of the phrase. I understand that you believe that you are perfectly fine. But, seeing as my job as Headmaster requires that I take care of you, I urge you to tell me of anything that has come up, whether large or small, to help me make school easier for you."

"There's nothing, sir," Harry said.

"Nothing other than the dreams?" The Headmaster said, obviously cautious with the way that he revealed his knowledge of the things that Harry has been experiencing. "I am rather sorry for this breach in your privacy, but Professor Snape had told me, especially with the fact that you were in immense pain, that you had been having dreams. Would you care to talk about it?"

Sighing and seeing no way out of this, also knowing that he had wanted to tell the Headmaster about this (albeit not in this way), Harry then said, "I've keep seeing the things that Voldemort had done. I see all that he sees, I feel everything that he does, and feel all that he does."

"Oh dear," was all that the Headmaster said, understanding the surface implications of that statement. Drawing a long, rattle sigh at the things that he seemed to remember, the Headmaster then said, "Have you discovered anything new perhaps, the ability to speak to snakes?"

"Yes," Harry drawled, not wanting to know how the hell the Headmaster knew or suspected his ability

"It's just as I thought," Dumbledore muttered. "Long ago, I was the Transfiguration teacher at this school, when the Headmaster was Armando Dippet, a rather fine albeit headstrong wizard, I had heard a student, Tom Riddle speaking in snakes. Now, mind you, I happened upon him by chance, but I saw him talking to a garden snake. I was the man responsible for bringing him to this school as ever since the snake, I watched him. I observed his constant use of wandless magic at a young age and I, around fifty years ago, took him to Hogwarts. I mustn't get too much into his history, but he eventually became Voldemort.

"Now, you must be wondering how this is all related. Getting to the point, Harry, ever since the incident with your parents, I've been trying to understand what truly happened. With the residue of the Killing Curse in your home in Godric's Hollow, I devoted years of research to understand how you survived with the intent of recreating the entire thing to save lives. But so far, the only things that I've been able to find were very obscure notes that your mother had left here and there. Now, you're free to take them if you like, but I'm afraid that they offer nothing other than a few Arithmantic equations and things on Astronomy. I can give them to you in about a day or so," Dumbledore offered rather empathetically, his tone warming.

Harry nodded, obviously asking for the notes. He needed _something_ from his mother, anything. Hopefully, there were notes left over at the site. He could definitely visit the place once again, and perhaps he would someday soon, just as long as he had left the Dursleys. Now what was he going with this?

"From what I can discern, there needed to be a sacrifice, a costly sacrifice for you to be properly protected from the Killing Curse. There were strange symbols at the sight of the incident, Harry, but it seemed like a few nonsensical things. I was also able to discover that there needed to be a strong element of emotion, in this case love, and, perhaps, anguish. But as a direct result of that protection, there seemed to be some…residue. The scar on your head," Harry reached to touch the jagged and crude scar grotesquely cut into his head, "seems to have some form of connection with Voldemort. Now at this point, it seems as if some of his powers have been passed onto you, and in the same manner, his dreams and experiences."

Harry had a connection with Voldemort? Fuck.

"Now, considering the fact that you continue to have these dreams, then perhaps he is still, to everyone's horror, still alive. Perhaps as a spirit or ghost, but he still is probably alive and kicking. Keep in mind that this is a likely proposition. I promise you, Harry," the Headmaster's voice hardened with promise, speaking of pain, "that if he still is alive, then I will do everything in my power to protect you."

Harry was unsure what to feel right now. What the hell was he supposed to do anyways? This wasn't something that was a normal day occurrence. No one comes up to a person and says, 'Hi. You have a connection with one of the Darkest Wizards in recent memory and he is probably alive. Good luck!' and leaves. This was absolutely ludicrous, especially considering the fact that Harry had done nothing to Voldemort. Though why didn't the Headmaster take him under his wings?

"My boy," the Headmaster started, causing Harry to flinch violently. He couldn't shake off the name, 'Boy,' from his relatives. It was odd that this was the moment that he had reacted…odd. "Harry, I'm rather sorry for burdening you with this information. I've also heard from Professor Flitwick that you are seeking to improve yourself in dueling, something that, if you wish, I could help with. I hope, for your sake, that I'm wrong about all of this and this is just Magic intervening with Fate."

Harry mutely nodded, his face going blank. He had things to do, things to work on. He couldn't throw his friends into this. They simply can't know about this. "Thank you, Headmaster, for telling me this. I'll think about your offers."

"Harry, are you okay?" Dumbledore was concerns with the sudden change in the child's demeanor.

"I-I just have to process everything," was all that Harry said. "Excuse me."

He stood and rose, pushing his chair in and left the headmaster in the office with a painful heart. Dumbledore then asked Fawkes, "Do you think, old friend, that I should have waited until the next year?"

The Phoenix trilled softly and sadly, the sound not lifting Dumbledore's mood in the slightest.

Harry, on the other hand, walked down the halls aimlessly. It wasn't a death sentence, simply some form of speculation. But he couldn't help but think that the Headmaster was right. It _felt_ right. He just hoped his gut was wrong. He headed back to the Owlery, aiming to send a message, but was interrupted when Hedwig came flying down the halls. Ignoring the surprised outbursts of the other students, Harry caught the note that his familiar dropped and broke the Gringotts seal. It was a surprisingly short message.

 _Mr. Potter,_

 _Following your request, the goblins at Gringotts have been able to find a lineage that is magically related to you. The Flamels. If you wish for further information, contact our Customer Service, though you are free to owl them if you wish._

 _Gringotts_

There was an attached note, written in very elaborate cursive. Somehow managing to read it, Harry's eyes widened.

 _Mr. Potter,_

 _Upon the discovery that your mother, Lily Potter nee Evans, is what wizards consider 'pureblood,' I have been searching through our records. Apparently, the Evan family is somehow related to the Le Fay line. A woman by the name of Igraine Le Fay nearly 25 generations ago married to a man named Saul Evans (I'm rather sorry for the lack of information in all of this considering the fact that this was upon a short notice, though, if you wish, I can continue to look further). They were able to have a child and many generations later, after a series of Squibs, Lily Evans, your mother, was born. Considering the fact that you are the only magical living being of the Le Fay line, then you have the ability to enter the Le Fay vaults, albeit the things that you can take are restricted to a certain and rather mild point. Due to your age, then you only have the ability to take everything except gold which means that you have the ability to take wands, armour, and books from your vaults. You aren't restricted to with what you can do with them._

 _Griphook._

That was good to know. He'd definitely pay another visit to Gringotts before the day ended to see what was in the vaults. But Harry's face remained stony faced as he walked down the hall, effectively parting the waters of students with his barely constrained magic. Emotion was a rather effective amplifier of magic.

* * *

A/N: Do you think that I should have allowed Dumbeldore to tell Harry of those things? From my viewpoint, it seems like a rather idiotic move on the Headmaster's part, leading to tings such as the destruction of his office somewhere (I've only read the Chamber of Secrets, don't blame me). Burdening an eleven year old with the information that there is a possibly homicidal and sadistic killer after him is not necesarily wise, but it does provide the aforementioned child with a semblance of understanding as to the reason why there seems to be a Dark Wizard attacking him constantly. Not one of my best moves, but I'm putting out there because obviously, Harry is mature and from the previous chapter, Dumbledore knows it too.

The visions, the visions, the visions. Oh, they are becoming monumental, a fundamental part of this story. I'm using them to explore the more sadistic side of Harry that has sparked from his past, though how is still to be determined. I hope that I'm not going overboard with them, I just really want to torture people without the entire thing burdening the conscience of Harry.

Daphne has obviously loosened up around Harry. They're more similar than they seem to think. Think about that.

For those interested, I was born in the Philippines and my parents speak Tagalog. For those who do speak it, try to read the spells again.

Hopefully this chapter, as always, is entertaining enough.

 _Is this story dark? If not, then is there any possible way for me to make it Dark, because I really don't want to make things sunshine and rainbows for the characters and readers, despite the seemingly light tone of these things. Or might as well provide suggestions to improve my overall writing, if you want. I've been trying to analyze 'Dark' stories, but have been unable to nail the tone._

 _ **Review Please**_

Shameless begging out of the way, here are answers.

 **Smutley-Do-Wrong:** Ha! But yes, that makes sense, the last three-fourths of your review, I mean. As for the first half, Harry is more...human because of the abuse, neglect, etc. He doesn't want to outright retaliate nor be too hostile. Though, in some instances, he _really_ acts like a Gryffindor. Respectfully I ask, what do you mean by 'seeking?'

 **MikeBM25:** Thanks.

 **gabrieljuarezl:** Well, here I am again. School's nearly over. That means more chapters. But just don't expect me to be fully commited to this schedule with my upcoming tests. Side note: My school ends on the 2nd of June.

 **kamui5:** Thanks. I really hope that he does too.

 **Vi38:** Thankses. Me really worked very hard on chapter. (I should stop at this point).

 **Gime'SS:** No problem.

Now, I have to get back to researching King Arthur legends by reading an 800 paged book, _The Mists of Avalon._ I also have to get back to fantasize about drinking my own blood and reading very, very descriptve and grusome scenes where people are being dissected alive.

Cheers

HHS


	15. Encounters with Snakesplus Morgaine

He could have done so many things. He could have shut himself in the library, hidden away, explore the Forbidden Forest, do so. Many. Fucking. Things. But he chose the single, most scary thing that he had done in his life. He followed his predecessor, Tom Riddle, into the Chambers and stood in front of the Statue.

It was a rather fine work of art, a massive marble statue that, quite possibly, was nearly 20 feet tall. The room around it was in rather fantastic condition without a caretaker and considering the fact that it had stood there for nearly a thousand years. There were barely traces of mold or anything of that sort. Instead, it was rather slick cobblestone and marble, emerald, and other minerals that built the ceiling, many being obviously used for decoration. But it all paid off, the wealth, to create a display that was simply breathtaking.

But, like many things of late, Harry paid no attention to the grand spectacle and architectural masterpiece that only three people seemed to know about. He walked up to the statue's pedestal, looking at the inscription, stating that this was the Statue of Salazar Slytherin and that he was one of the Founders of Hogwarts. It stated that this person was renowned for his potions and magical spells, that he was legendary in duelling, and was essentially a jack of all trades.

Harry stood there, holding his rather unique wand, engraved with all sorts of strange runes. Oddly, it seemed to pulsate with a strange energy. Not with the same power that it had in Ollivander's wandshop, mind you, but it had the same feeling, if that made any sense. But nonetheless, he stood there, contemplating whether or not he'd die. Perhaps, he'd be able to manipulate the snake to do his bidding. After all, Riddle had abandoned it, so perhaps he could paint himself as the snake's Saviour. That would work.

Harry, from memory repeated the words that his predecessor had said, backing up a few steps to make sure that nothing pokey would come and, well, poke him. The statue, by magic, seemed to melt into the ground, leaving a massive snake, looking like a rather more impressive and simply larger version of the Indian Cobra. It rose, its eyes glowing rather menacingly. Its tongue flicked in and out, its eyes, which were a cascading series of yellows, burned into his hardened green ones, seemingly to silently judge Harry. Harry stood there, impassively staring back, matching the snake for each second that it stared at him. With the help of non-existent lights, its scales shone, creating a rather mesmerizing sight for Harry.

 _'And who are you?'_ The snake, King of the Serpents, said, rising up, standing nearly its entire height, leaving a small coil on the floor as support. Its skin creating a rather impressive figure, making it seem bigger. A perfect specimen.

'I am Harry Potter,' the wizard replied, refusing to give imaginary ground to this snake, basilisk (though how he knew what kind snake this was, he didn't know. Perhaps it was because of the connection).

 _'And little child, do you know who I am? I am the King of the Serpents, the Basilisk! Fear me!'_

Feeling fatally defiant for no particular reason, Harry then said, _'And why should I? There stood, not fifty years ago, a student of this school who was your equal, King of Serpents, or equal. How dare you defy me when I know of the things that you thought were secret?!'_

The basilisk suddenly came rather close to Harry, its head perhaps a foot or two from Harry's which caused Harry to have second thoughts about being so defiant. _'So, the youngling knows of Tom Riddle?'_

 _'Yes, I do,'_ Harry then said, not knowing what do next.

 _'Then you know of the things he thought of the impure wizards and witches?'_

 _'Yes,'_ Harry somehow managed to drawl in Parseltongue.

 _'And do you support the movement then, what Riddle would call Half-Blood?'_

 _'No,'_ Harry answered truthfully.

 _'Then you must die!'_ The basilisk hissed angrily, rising back to its full length, quickly getting ready to strike. 'Tom told me of the mudbloods and the people who sympathise with them. They are inferior to those of pureblood!'

Panicking, Harry then shouted, _'Wait!'_

The Basilisk stopped, its eyes daring Harry to try persuade it to spare the wizard. _'Think about it, King of Serpents, Tom Riddle has not come down here for decades and he has been defeated.'_

 _'Defeated by whom? Tom Riddle was of great power and it must have been impossible for anyone outside of the master of this school to defeat him! Tell me!'_

 _'It was I.'_

 _'How could **you** defeat the great Tom Riddle, who killed hundreds of thousands of mudbloods in his time? Who let their blood drip unto the cobblestones and fill the streets?'_

 _'I surpassed him in both knowledge and magic,'_ Was Harry's reply, because, after all, it was technically true. He was able to kill Voldemort using magic and information, albeit his parents. For good measure, he let his magic flare, bringing up the emotion from earlier. He his anger and pain seep through, leading to a rather intimidating effect that visibly shook the basilisk.

 _'Harry Potter, vanquisher of Tom Riddle,'_ the basilisk hissed, something, perhaps magic, swirling around and around, filling Harry with a sense of unusual power and authority. It made him seem larger and stronger than he was a mere minute ago, something that was welcome due to the things that Fate had thrown at him. _'I must serve you now, with your act of killing Tom Riddle.'_

Odd, very odd. That was unexpected. At least he didn't have to kill the beast and incessantly risk his life. _'And why, Basilisk, must you serve me?'_

 _'Because the Heir of Slytherin commands the Basilisk of this school. That was what my father and forefathers had told me.'_

 _'But how is that possible? I'm not of the line of Slytherin_ ,' Harry suddenly said, quickly regretting that he had said such a thing and immediately pulled out his wand.

 _'And yet, the only possible way that you could have entered these Chambers and opened this statue is if you are the Heir. Perhaps it was the Right of Conquest, with you having defeated the previous Heir_.' Oddly, the basilisk was using a less formal pattern of speech.

' _Okay…_ ' was all that Harry said.

 _'Is there anything you wish for me to do Master_?' The basilisk said, something uncannily sparkling in his eyes.

 _'As of the moment, not right now other than get rid of Riddle's mentality from your mind. There are enough people in this school with that mindset.'_

The basilisk said nothing but slid back into its original position, silently asking for Harry to bring his rather safe statue back. Harry did so and walked aimlessly, his mind wandering. He suddenly felt his mind being overwhelmed, something, though not magic, twisting his emotion and wrecking his heart. He ran and ran, his feet pounding and his heart throbbing.

He found himself in one of the many training rooms and felt his anger, pain, and suffering suddenly well up. He felt his magic struggle against the mental barriers that he had in place and he let it go, lashing at everything, mutilating the stone floors, walls, and ceiling. He threw curses of all kinds against the desks in the room, the paintings and the other furniture. His magic swirled this way and that, carving deep into the stone as his wand wove a deathly intricate dance. Not once did he falter in his spells nor did his anger dissipate. His eyes were impenetrable, his jaw set. He heard them again, he saw their bodies on the ground, and the face of sheer, unadulterated glee as the curse glowed at the tip of the wand. He remembered the face of Vernon, Petunia, and Dudley. They had mocked him, beaten him, and starved him. Something brought him back to the world, momentarily forgetting his anger.

Harry let his wand drop as he came up to the wall. He looked around him, at the destruction that he had caused. The walls were mangled, as if a person had taken a massive hammer and chisel and cut away without a care in the world. He felt his anger again, the emotion coming back. He yelled and screamed, cursing all the way, as he punched the wall, feeling it crack and shudder as he encased his hand in sheer magic; the bricks being pulverised each time he slammed his fist into the wall. He felt the bones in his hand shatter and slumped down, his wand forgotten on the floor nearby. His anger momentarily dissipated as he looked down at his hands. He willed them to heal, speaking softly in parseltongue. He felt the shredded muscles from bone reattach and the bones revert to their original position. He felt them meld back in place, and, for some reason, endured a scream tat echoed through the halls, speaking of pain and suffering. Of longing and brokenness.

The wonders that a bit of physical force and a ton of magic could do for a person's mental health and physical health.

He walked away from the room, his hands raw with pain and a chamber having been ravaged, adulterated. He walked away, his eyes hard, his mind set. There were things that resided deep in his mind that he daren't speak of. His brisk walk quickly turned into sprinting as he ran into the library, to hide himself in the books. His everlasting friends.

A Few Hours Later

Harry stared at the ceiling. Two emotional breakdowns in a day. That, he guessed, was a record which was saying something with the fact that he had experienced what could be described as abuse as a child. He was rather lucky not to have too many adverse effects, just a few. He suddenly sat up in bed as he felt the magic in the air act in ways that only could be described as sparking and fizzling. Suddenly a woman popped into existence, completely unnoticed by the sleeping figures in his room. She was wearing a rather traditional and revealing robe, something that seemed to fit a formal occasion. She had a white crescent painted right between her eyebrows and she looked, now, tall and intimidating. Snakes were wrapped around her wrists, creating an intricate design while her magic pulsated gently. But Harry didn't waver in the slightest, knowing that Morgan was there to help him. She had her arm outstretched, and told him to come towards her.

Obeying, Harry came and suddenly found himself standing at the very edge of a Lake. "Where are we?"

Morgan laughed mirthlessly. "'Where are we,' You ask?" She snorted. "Only the most annoying and overbearing place that I've seen, a place that I'm thankful for. Oh, this place caused me the most grief in the world, toying with my future and my emotions until the day that I died. This is the Lake, the entrance to Avalon. To save your time, this was the place where people with the Sight, there were an abundant number of people with the ability at the time, mind you, trained. Many had descended from the pure magical beings that I had mentioned while others came from the fairies that roam the Earth. Now, I was blessed with a rather unique skill set, different from my peers. These are traits that have been passed, starting with me, for generations whether it be by physical means or magical means. Though, in your case, it's magical. Ludicrous, I have to say, as to the way that you came to be my magical descendant, but it's rather uninteresting-ish and it would just give me a headache."

"Ish?" Harry asked. That was rather odd

"Forget about it. Now, you're probably wondering why the fuck I brought you here if we were only going to talk. It's to talk about this world, and your powers. Considering the fact that I supposedly killed Merlin, you could say that you should be rather afraid now. But, to tell you the truth, that was one of the other People of Avalon who just happened to look a lot like me. If I actually did, I could be killing my father or my son, both who were rather brilliant. 'Merlin,' to tell you the truth, is a title given to a person apprenticed by the previous Merlin. But the title's now yours. Consider it a hereditary thing at this point. My several-great grandson was the last Merlin who died long before the Ministry of Magic and Hogwarts was established. Due to the fact that he found his son unsuitable for this sort of stuff and the fact that he apprenticed no one, the title disappeared. Though, it didn't disappear on its own as there was a bit of turmoil in the magical community at that point, all sorts of people proclaiming to be the Merlin. But, from the things that I saw, I pieced the training as much as I could and it's rather useful, if you had the time. But, with that dark wizard on your tail, we're going to have to compromise a bit."

Harry then asked confusedly, "And what exactly are we going to do?"

"Well," the Priestess said, "it's more like what am I going to do? You're just going to stand there, experiencing a tiny pinprick in your mind. For me, it'll hurt. A lot." And she suddenly turned to Harry (for they were side by side) and grabbed his head. She stared into his eyes.

For Harry, he was completely taken aback by her action. Then he understood. Legilimens was something that could be used for both picking someone's mind apart and for burying a bit of information in a person's head. He felt an itching sensation in his mind, as if there was a healing wound. He gasped as he started to see things that he shouldn't have, things that existed long before Hogwarts. He could feel his mind brimming with information. He could see all sorts of creatures, he saw wars, the wounds, the death. He could remember what she saw, the death looming over the horizon, sticking to everything like tar. He could remember excitement and happiness that were short-lived, he saw the books that she had read. He saw history unfold before his eyes with the sieges of Roman forts, the fall of kingdoms.

And it was over.

"So why did we come here, if I could have that at Hogwarts?" Morgaine asked, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "Because I wanted to see if you could call it."

Harry understood, all of a sudden. He stirred his magic, like a potion in a cauldron. He let the unspoken words form a connection between him and the place. His magic sang, and he saw a boat come into view.

Morgaine squealed like a teenage girl which was odd, considering the fact that she had seen unspeakable things. "Well, I was right! You're the next Merlin without all the training, power, knowledge, and information." She then snapped her fingers and the place disappeared, having been replaced by the Slytherin dorms. She then looked at him again, her imposing figure back to normal. She was rather beautiful, though she had nothing on…. Harry immediately abandoned that thought, embarrassed, only to hear Morgaine laugh.

"That's a compliment Harry," she said, smiling. "For you, no one could ever be close. I'm actually honored that I'm close to her despite the fact that I'm technically dead."

Death. Something that was ever present in both her life and Harry's life. Their mother's death, the visions and the wars. Harry's mind returned to what Dumbledore had said. He had a link with Voldemort. The Dark wizard was out to get him, to kill Harry in revenge for not only destroying his body but for the fact that Harry had survived. He was the only one of two people who had survived despite his will. Harry Potter and Dumbledore, considered the two greatest Wizards of all time, on the Dark Wizard's hit list. And one was only a mere schoolboy.

Harry felt someone pull him into bed, and wrap their arms around him. It was Morgaine. She ran her hands through his head. "You know," she started, her voice soft, "I wasn't there to raise my son, to take care of him, so I don't know much. But I'll try to help you. Quiet, Harry, sleep now. You deserve rest after today. And go get them Harry, destroy them, bring them to their knees."

That was an odd thing to say, but Harry didn't care as he was now fast asleep, tears streaming down his cheeks.

Morgaine got up and sighed. Oh, the things that Fate threw at Harry. It was nearly time for her to do it. And it was certainly time to spice a few things up, perhaps change Harry a bit. His relatives deserved what was coming to them. She snapped her fingers and disappeared.

Nighttime

What Harry didn't know was that his forced sleep should have lasted until the next day, but the thing that Morgaine didn't seem to count on was the magic itself. He awoke with a start and instinctively reached for the potions, downing one as he still lay in bed. He sat up and breathed heavily, suddenly feeling a disturbance. He quickly dressed, cast several cosmetic charms, grabbing his wand in the process. Magic was rolling around, somehow not waking everyone in his room up. Stealthily, he walked towards one of the exits to the dorms, accessible only by a parseltongue, and started to look for the cause of the disturbance. He roamed the halls, wandering, and taking care that no one would find him. He searched the entirety of the Slytherin section and didn't find it. Oh well.

Harry started to head back just before a person silently popped into existence, thinking, _Where the bloody hell am I? Are these the Slytherin dorms?_

The Next Day

Harry got up, immediately grabbing his wand to check the time. 5:30. Good. He was still awake at the same time, the memories not having any adverse side effects. Shoving the things that Morgaine had shown him to the back of the day, he saw Hedwig flying through the halls again. He stretched his arm out and felt Hedwig wrap her talons around him.

"Hello Hedwig," Harry said, stroking her feathers. Hedwig was absolutely magnificent, a rather intelligent creature. She was fun to play with, to talk to when they were alone. Harry unleashed a torrent of compliments, causing Hedwig to seem to puff her feathers in pride.

A person stepped out from an opening in the wall, an opening that wasn't there a moment ago, suddenly facing a green-eyed wizard with his wand in hand, an owl on his arm. Harry hadn't seen this girl before, who was about his age, considering the fact that he had practically met everyone in his year. She had raven black hair, just like him, and piercing eyes that seemed to bore into his soul. "Where am I?" She asked, obviously confused.

Harry lowered his wand, seeing that it wasn't who he thought it was. "You're in Hogwarts. Who are you?"

"My name is erm…Bellatrix Black."

* * *

A/N: Fun times. Bellatrix Black is now in Harry's time period. I've always wondered why people focus on Harry going back instead of a person going forwards. Ah well, hopefully, I've been able to avoid destroying interest in the story because _this_ is where my muse goes to. I _adore_ Bella and I'm going to promptly come up with a future for her.

At this point, my chapters are mediocre at best (though a massive improvement over the first few chapters that I daren't read again). This is me having _fun_ and working on my writing quality. If anyone has a problem with that, then go ahead and PM me. Just know that I'll probably cry myself to sleep in the little corner of my room.

Sorry about bringing in a bit of lore from the Mists of Avalon. Perhaps not the best idea, but I couldn't resist. Calling Harry 'Merlin' without giving him OP powers and spells? _And_ getting a rather magical character to say such a thing? My treat.

I'm also making Harry significantly more unstable (take that as you like). I love the sheer power in the tantrum and the way that Morgaine is still bloodthirsty despite the fact that she's holding Harry in her arms. She's a bit...well, bloodthirsty here. Fun times because I'm a person who adores practically all the things that Bellatrix did.

Now, go and read Delenda Est because it's awesome. And PLEASE read this:12483364. It's a new one that I've found and hopefully it's going to be updated regularly. It certainly seems like it. The author is also very coherent and infinitely better than I am at writing.

I'll try and keep up with the updates.

 **Please Review.**

 **Rebekahalana:** I can't believe people actually like it, esp. the first few chapters.

 **Guest:** Dammit! Don't you know that you're being impolite, saying such things without signing it?

 **Deathlord135:** Yes, I've mistakenly treated them like 13/14 year olds. I can't handle the immaturity of 11/12 yr olds and I love a good innuendo here and there. Side note: What kind of maturity? Harry and Daphne have gone through a lot while Blaise has a mother that is a black widow, so he's bound to quick;y grow up.

 **Kluseqq:** Thanks

 **Gime S'SL:** You're welcome.

 **Plums:** Hopefully, it's not as abysmal. Fixed the generations by the way.

 **Gabrieljuazra:** Thanks

 **Djberneman:** Perhaps, perhaps not.

I just learned. Uploading this at four in the morning is fatal for you. Night, before I sleep on the keyboard.

Cheers

HHS


	16. Bloody Bellatrix and Her Wand

A/N: I own nothing of this. I'm jumbling a bunch of ideas, concepts, and an entire universe into a mess that people somehow like. Enjoy.

* * *

Bellatrix Black? Immediately, Harry pointed his wand back at the supposed right hand of Voldemort and started to utter a hex, but before he could do such a thing, the seemingly 12-year-old moved with astonishing speed. She was able to knock the wizard's wand out of his hand, into the air, and managed to catch it. Harry's stomach seized in fear, she was surprisingly quick and her sheer efficiency caused him to freeze. This was one of the first few times that he had been able to duel with someone and each time, he had been disarmed and subdued. And oh, how humiliating it was, to be beaten each and every time when he was supposed to be the one who would probably face Voldemort another time, _if_ he was still alive. Finding resolve, he tried to fall back into his magic, to let himself become a conduit for the strange energy, but he couldn't. His fear of the girl that stood in front of him was too great and his mind was in too much turmoil from not only Morgaine, but from the things that Dumbledore had said.

Harry clenched himself, getting ready for a curse or to be subdued. And suddenly, he heard Black hiss. He looked as his wand clattered to the ground. He could hear Hedwig starting to fly down, and dove for his wand, immediately casting an _Incarcerous_. The witch fell to the ground just before Harry could cast a Cushioning Charm. Wincing at the pain the way that she fell on the ground, Harry started to ask questions, sitting down right next to the witch's prone body, keeping two or three feet between the two of them.

"How old are you?" Was Harry's first question, knowing full well what age she was supposed to be, considering the fact that she should be in her 30's or 40's, having read somewhere that she was born in 1951.

She then said, glaring, "Well, I'm 12 years old."

"Where did you learn to disarm me like that?" Harry suddenly asked, wanting to know how in the world she moved so fast. No one his age, not even him, should move that quickly without any previous training or magical augmentation. And that was what scared him. What did Voldemort do to Black?

"The Black family is reputed for our fighting skills," she sneered at him. "The only reason that you're still living is because of that accursed wand of yours and the fact that I was disoriented."

Huh. She sounds a lot like Malfoy.

"You must be a _mudblood_ , if you didn't know of our name," she then added. And that was why Voldemort probably recruited her. "Who are _you_ anyways?"

"Harry Potter."

"Well, that name suits you, that centaur's arse on your head." Bellatrix's eyes suddenly widening when she registered the second part of his name. Harry took no notice.

"Creative, Black," was Harry deadpanned before asking another question. "What day is it?"

She looked at him as if he were crazy. "Not only is the sorry excuse for a Potter lucky, but he's also stupid. It's October 31st, 1963."

Harry suddenly laughed. Oh, this was too good. Black was not only trying to use Polyjuice but was also trying to trick him into believing that she was from the past. Practically impossible. Grabbing his wand, he cast a quick Time charm, modifying it only a bit so that it so that she could only see the year, seeing Bellatrix's eyes widen in surprise.

"Impossible. The modifications on the Time-Turner should have been able to allow me to only travel further into the past. Wait, where is it?" she suddenly hissed. She looked down as best she could and saw nor felt a Time-Turner around her neck. "No," she started to chant until it became an incomprehensible mess. "This couldn't have happened. I had Mother _and_ Father look at my equations. How?" she started to silently cry as Harry looked on with the smallest bit of sympathy.

That was what hooked Harry. A twelve-year-old attempting to mess with fairy dust and manipulate time? How? And it genuinely seemed as if she was from the past. But perhaps that was all an act.

"And why would a 12-year-old, or any student try to mess with Time-Turners? That's not only risky, but any malfunctions could be disastrous!"

Bellatrix rolled her eyes despite the tears that streamed down her cheeks. "I didn't know that, Mother. "

Taking her pride into account, Harry then said, "You know, I could just leave you here for the random student to happen across. Imagine if a fellow Slytherin came by, other than me…they'd probably tell their friends that they saw a Black bound on the floor, tear stains on her cheeks."

"Shit," he heard her mutter. "Yes, capitalize on the girl who is crying because of the fact that she messed up on an experiment!" Harry felt a twinge of guilt but crushed it. This was Bellatrix Lestrange, the right hand of _Voldemort._ He had to cover his bases. "So, Harry Potter, if you're from Slytherin then you'd know the benefits of being an ally of the Blacks, wouldn't you?" Seeing the sudden attention that Harry threw at her, she continued, saying, "Being an old family, we'd be able to get you connections. In turn, you set me free and get me a new wand."

But Harry, remembering a thing or two about the nature of his Hogwarts House, then said, "And who says that you won't turn your wand, or for your case, any weapon on me and my friends? I want an Oath."

"An Oath!?" Black practically shouted, causing Harry to cast several silencing charms around them. "Never!"

"Well then, we don't have a deal. Just swear on your magic that you will not harm me or my friends and an alliance with the Blacks in exchange for…" Harry paused, carefully choosing his words, "a wand and freedom from the physical ropes around you right now."

He decided, considering the fact that today was a school day, that he'd have to take her to Dumbledore.

"On my magic?!" Bellatrix once again shouted. "Couldn't it be on something else? Do you know how careful I'd have to be? What if one of your friends dislike me or what if I accidentally hit them?"

"Then just change the first part to 'no intentional killing nor intentionally hurting, in a grievous manner, me and my friends physically or magically without my permission." Why had he added the last part? Harry didn't know.

Bellatrix seemed to hesitate for the briefest of seconds before saying the Oath, using Harry's exact words (with his own changes). Harry agreed, the Oath Beijing concluded by a swirl of magic that seemed to encase the two, making them shudder as if something had been sucked out off them. Harry then freed Bellatrix, or at least moved to before he heard someone walking down the halls. He quickly unbound Bellatrix and started talking in a mid-sentence, using a Potions book as a reference.

"A Pain-relieving potion!? Do you know how complicated that is?" He exclaimed, gesturing towards the origin of the sound. Bellatrix shot a confused look at him.

"Well, of course, _Mother,_ " she then said, reusing the insult. "That's kind of the point. Don't you know that life is too short to spend sitting around, doing whatever you do."

"Hey!" Harry feigned a tone of hurt. "You don't know half of the things that I've done."

"And what have _you_ done?"

They then rounded the corner only to see a brunette wearing Slytherin robes.

"Tracey! What're you doing at around 6 in the morning?" Harry asked, obviously confused at the fact that she was there.

"You know," she drawled, hesitant at the sight of a possible second year next to Harry, "books. Who's your friend? I haven't seen her around…"

"Well, no. She seems to be a transfer student, I guess since she certainly wasn't at the Sorting nor was she at the Feast. I just bumped into her…" Harry started.

Bellatrix remained quiet, not wanting to reveal much about herself. Harry then said, "I'll have to bring her up to Dumbledore. Apparently, she has a meeting and can't find her way back."

"Oh," Tracey said, adjusting her books so that Bellatrix couldn't see her them. "See you later."

With that, she walked off, leaving the two alone. Bellatrix then asked, "Friend of yours?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"And what can she do for you?" Bellatrix asked, wanting to know if Harry truly had a Slytherin mindset.

"Crack a good joke and offers a bit of support."

Bellatrix said nothing about that, immediately changing the subject, "You promised a wand. How are you going to get it?"

"Let's go to Dumbledore first." Was all Harry said.

"Dumbledore? Why the bloody hell would we go to Dumbledore?"

"Because, like it or not, he's the Headmaster and defeated Grindelwald. He should know what to do," Harry answered.

"We should solve this ourselves," Bellatrix protested.

Harrys sighed. "It's a bloody school day. People are bound to notice. If we take the Floo, then we'd be known while the same goes if we try to leave the grounds. There are wards in place that prevent Apparition, so there easily could be more wards that detect the people entering and exiting the grounds."

"Damn it," Bellatrix muttered, raising her voice to then say, "Yeah, let's go."

"Race?" Harrys asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No. Why the fuck would we race to the Headmaster's office? Tell me about what's happened in 1991."

Sighing, Harry then proceeded to tell her about the things that had happened, replacing his name with a different person's, Blaise's.

-Nearly five minutes later-

They were nearing Dumbledore's office as Harry wrapped up the story about the troll, saying that he had talked about it with the Troll Killer. Bellatrix was on his case immediately. "So, you're saying that a _first_ year was able to kill a _troll_ by himself? I don't believe you. And anyways, how the bloody hell is a troll supposed to get into Hogwarts?"

She was more expressive than he thought. Unusual. "I have no bloody clue but I just managed to sneak a peek at the troll corpse and the smashed bathroom."

"Sure…" Bellatrix said as they stopped in front of the gargoyle. "So, how are we going to get in?"

Harry then said, "Give me a second." He, like last night, reached deep into himself, allowing his magic to swirl around, to erupt in a controlled explosion. He guided it to the gargoyle and somehow _called_ upon the magic of the school to recognize his need. The gargoyle slid open as the same spiraling staircase formed from the stone.

"How did you do that?" Bellatrix demanded, feeling the magic around Harry pulsate instead of acting like an ocean's waves.

Harry then dismissed it saying, "No idea. Go ahead."

"No thank you. I'm not stupid. You'd just stare at my arse."

Harry was repulsed at the accusation. "No, I wouldn't. Those are things that I haven't even begun to think about yet."

"Sure…" Bellatrix drawled as Harry, seeing her glare, went up the stairs.

The two emerged from the staircase only to see perplexed Dumbledore standing in front of his shelves, looking at them. "Bellatrix Lestrange," he simply breathed as the two stood in the doorway.

"Lestrange?" Bellatrix asked, stepping forward and staring deep into Dumbledore's eyes. "Why would I have that surname unless…No! I could never marry that dimwit."

"And yet you did," Dumbledore said. "How old are you?"

"Why does everyone keep asking me about that?" Bellatrix rhetorically asked. "I'm twelve."

"Twelve," he breathed.

Harry then spoke up, asking, "Headmaster? Is she actually…"

"A Time Traveller?" Dumbledore finished, raising his wand as Bellatrix uncharacteristically fidgeted. He sent a multitude of spells, each a varying shade of yellow. "Yes, it must be, because Polyjuice nor a De-Ageing Potion could hide against these spells. Merlin," he added in a breathy tone. "So _that_ was the magic that I had felt. What in the world did you do, Miss Lestra-, I mean, Black?"

"I had found this spell in my house…" Bellatrix simply said.

"Ah, the things that curiosity gets us into," Dumbledore said, lacking that grandfatherly tone as he started to seem to think more about her predicament. "Miss Black, I believe that you'll have to stay at Hogwarts what with the atrocities that your future-self did, many would be all too willing to kill you."

Bellatrix stood there, silent, before saying, "Kill me? What did I do?"

"You've murdered hundreds and-" Dumbledore was cut off by a cry of surprise.

" _Hundreds_?! Why would I do that?"

"I believe that your words were, 'They all deserve to die, the Muggleborn.' I daren't say that slur."

Harry glanced at Bellatrix and saw tears appear in her eyes. "Murder?" she breathed. "Impossible. I would never go that far…"

"Forgive me for saying this, but your future self is beyond any salvation from her current state. You, on the other hand, still display an excellent grasp of morals and sympathy. She, on the other hand, is devoid of these things and is imprisoned in Azkaban," the Headmaster bluntly said.

"No," Bellatrix breathed again, standing there as still as a statue. "Then what am I supposed to do? Where am I going to live?"

"It's either here or at Grimmauld Place which is currently abandoned, although, with everything considered, word would get out that a member of our staff would be out of the school grounds, which means you'll have to wait until summer for your safety, of course."

"Abandoned?" she said, her voice barely a whisper. "What's happened?"

"Do you truly want to know?" Dumbledore said, hesitating.

"It couldn't be worse than learning that you're a mass murderer," Bellatrix said, tempting Fate.

"Sirius, your brother, was thrown in Azkaban for betraying the Potters and killing thirteen Muggles—"

" _Sirius?!_ " Bellatrix exclaimed while Harry said, "My family?"

"Yes, Harry. He was the one who betrayed your parents to Voldemort, which as you know, allowed you to kill the Dark Lord."

Bellatrix rounded on him. " _You_ defeated a Dark Lord?"

Harry mutely nodded. "And I guess that you did everything that 'Blaise' supposedly did?"

That shouldn't have been an assumption that she should've come to. There wasn't anything that pointed towards it, and yet she somehow knew. All Harry did was nod again.

"Excuse me?" Dumbledore said.

"Nothing, Headmaster," Bellatrix said and almost hesitantly she asked, "Was there anything else?"

Dumbledore sighed, making his way back to his desk and sitting down. He pinched the bridge of his nose while he sighed. "Yes, Miss Black. Your sister, Narcissa, married into the Malfoys who supported the Dark Lord, and, from the rumors, Andromeda was cast out of the family. Additionally, your father disappeared and mother died."

"Th-the-they're dead?" she stuttered, her voice breaking. "W-why was Andy disowned?" She burst into tears and, with hesitation, Harry came up and wrapped his arms around her. He looked at Dumbledore who pointed his wand at the witch, sending out a rather yellow spell, the movements seeming as if it were the Cheering Charm. Bellatrix's sobs stopped a minute or two later, showing that it _was_ a cheering charm.

"So, it's either Hogwarts or Hogwarts until summer," Bellatrix said after a moment, wiping her tears. "I'll choose Hogwarts. There's less of a chance of discovery and I'll be able to learn things at a faster pace, I hope."

"Headmaster?" Harry then asked. "Bellatrix needs a wand before school starts."

"Hmm? Oh, yes. You can take the Floo to Ollivanders…" Ollivander had a Floo? Perhaps it was a standard for a building in this World, though, he hadn't seen any Floo in Flourish and Blotts. "…and pick up any other materials that you might need. When you return, come back here to the address, 'Hogwarts Headmaster,' and by then, I should have a pseudonym prepared for you."

Bellatrix simply nodded as Harry grabbed a handful of the powder he had seen. A glance at Black reminded him of the complete destruction of her world from a single mistake. He threw the powder into the Floo and, at Dumbledore's prompt, he said, "Ollivanders workshop."

He stepped into the flames, feeling that tingling feeling as he found himself being catapulted into another fireplace. He popped out and fell flat on his face, quickly getting up. Thankfully, there was no one around, meaning that he was able to quickly get ready before anyone came through. He had just finished straightening himself up when Bellatrix came through, somehow landing perfectly.

A wizened man came through from behind all of the incessant shelves brimming with wands of all sorts. Harry then thought, _Here we go again._

"Miss Black?" Ollivander exclaimed, his wand clattering on the floor as he stepped back, obviously scared. "Harry, you must get back!" He then said, pointing his wand at Bellatrix.

Harry sighed, annoyed at how much this would put them back. He had _classes_ to get to. "Ollivander, she's not who you think she is. She's only twelve, a lookalike if you will."

"But, but…" Ollivander protested. "It's the right hand of You-Know-Who!"

"If she were, then would she be with me, sir? With my wand put away?" Harry asked.

Ollivander put his wand down, composing himself. "Good point Mister Potter. Now, Miss, I'm sure that you are in need of a wand, an emergency I dare say with the use of the Floo?"

Bellatrix nodded. "Do you have a walnut 12 ¾ in. wand with dragon heart string?"

Ollivander looked at her suspiciously. "Yes, I certainly do…just give me a moment."

He then disappeared into the labyrinth of shelves, leaving the two in a rather cramped space, dust in the air. Harry then asked, "Don't you think that you'd just undone all my work?"

"What work?" Bellatrix asked, confused.

"That was your previous wand, wasn't it?"

"Oh," Bellatrix said, subdued.

"Well, all we can do is wait, I guess. How are you doing?"

Bellatrix looked at him sharply. "Why are _you_ asking?"

Harry sighed. "Because I bloody care. The only reason I wanted that oath back there was for protection."

"Well," Bellatrix said with venom, "I'm not a mass murderer yet."

"Key word is yet, and perhaps, you won't have to be one." Harry said, after a moment.

"What do you mean? I used a Time Turner so all of this has already happened?"

Harry smiled. "I had read once, somewhere, that there could be different dimensions…"

"And whatever happened transported me into a separate dimension?"

"Possibly," Harry said, "At this point, everything is possible, I guess."

They stood in silence as they waited for Ollivander to get the wand. After a few minutes, the old man was making his way towards them, holding a wand, oddly curved, unlike any other wand that Harry had seen.

Ollivander, rather hesitantly said, "Here," as he practically shoved it towards her.

Black took it and tried to wave it, expecting some form of connection, waving it back and forth, waiting for sparks or flames to appear. But alas, that wasn't the case as Harry could _feel_ the wand rejecting Bellatrix, its magic practically retreating from her.

Black looked on the verge of crying. "For Morgana's sake! Can't anything go right?!" And she clenched her fists, handing the wand back to Ollivander.

Ollivander, despite seeming not to know the entire story, looked rated saddened. He was about to say something when Harry heard something, serving whispering oh so gently. He ignored it for the time being and asked Black, "Custom wand?"

Bellatrix mutely nodded when magic seemed to fizzle and pop in the air, creating sparks around the three people that stood in that workshop. Suddenly, Harry, as if in a trance, started moving, his eyes becoming a completely dark shade of green. He conjured blades and all sorts of other tools that should have been out of his capability. He weaved in between the shelves, as if possessed, grabbing materials and shoving them into his bag. He laid them down on the counter at the front of the shop, images started popping up in his mind, feeling unusually sleepy despite the efficiency at which his body moved with. He didn't process what he was doing, but from the sheer silence and occasional gasps from Ollivander, it was pretty damn impressive. Suddenly, he felt him grab Black's arm and before she could react, he had sliced her arm, withdrew blood, and healed her right back up. By the time he was able to surface from this insane state, he found himself standing in front of the counter with blades strewn this way and that. Small wood chipping littered the counter and odd materials. In the midst of the clutter, there was an ornate wand with runes of all sorts. Unlike the runes on Harry's wand, these were jagged and deep.

A mild scent of blood permeated the wood. He could vaguely remember Morgaine being thrown into a trance when creating her own wand, and…a scabbard? Harry ignored the memory as he picked up the wand and started to inspect it. The wand, on the outside, was unique, to say the least. The outside was a plethora of swirling colours, white, varying shades of brown, and something that looked suspiciously like black appeared to be included. It looked a lot like those pillars outside of the barbers that Harry's Aunt had brought his 'cousin' to, though the various stripes of colours were impossibly thin as if someone wove individual strips of wood into the shape of the wand. The wand itself wasn't straight but was somewhat uneven, though it seemed rather comfortable to grasp.

The core…was impossible for him to discern. A quick glance to the two standing in a corner revealed the level of shock. Belllatrix's eyes were comically and rather impossibly wide while Ollivander's mouth was hanging open. It felt exhilarating for Harry, knowing full well that surprising a wizard like Ollivander was rare, nearly unachievable.

"What happened?" Harry asked.

* * *

A/N: At this point, I'm still trying to determine what to do with Bellatrix. Who the bloody fuck knows what I'm gonna do with Bellatrix. I might take a week or two off, though I _cannot_ stop writing. No matter how hard I try, I simply can't stop writing. It's an addiction. For those who've seen on Reddit, hi. I've made a few changes, not too noticeable nor out of character.

Umm...yeah. The Ollivander scene was longer than I expected and I had originally planned for them to get back to Dumbledore at the end of the chapter. Oh well. This _is_ an ongoing project. This feels like an odd chapter, exploring the more manipulative side of Harry and him being saved by sheer luck (who knows what happened to the wand-have any of you read A Cadmean Victory? That's where I'm borrowing an idea or two and using them for my own purposes).

For those interested, read: 7544355. I'm kind of depressed that it's uncompleted, but hopefully, the concept would be picked up by someone. It's a bloody good story that I'm gonna reread.

 _Any suggestions are greatly appreciated. PM me or just leave a review._

 **Smutley-Do-Wrong** : That's a good point (especially with the number of people on Reddit pointing it out. I've heard of a person spitting out the keys of a keyboard. Probably from the days when I was eight and I was watching Phineas and Ferb. And that is a really good fic (that I'm still reading).

 **Guest** : Technically, the story is still _alive..._ I absolutely can't believe you didn't give reasons...ah well. See ya!

 **hunzbookwyrm:** Thanks. Thanks. And thank you.

 **Who Are You What Do You Want** : Well, that's what I basically surmised. Anyways, stuff is happening. Morgaine's transfer of information didn't come without any effects on Harry. Now, let's see if I can think of anything I can do with her memories. Any input is appreciated greatly.

 **ProCaptured** : I like the character, it's expressly stated that this is a Harry/Daphne story, and I wanted to spice things up. I can't write two stories at once, sadly.

 **sanbeegoldiewhitey:** Hermione was eleven, so give her a bit of slack. And McGonagall decided that if Harry could kill a troll, he could subdue it. Think Dumbledore and the Death Eaters. The detention, perhaps, was iffy, I guess.

 **Gime'SS:** You're welcome.

 **gabrieljuarezl:** Thanks and hopefully, you enjoyed them.


	17. A Killer Adopted by Assassins

A/N: Remember the rating? It's not restricted to language. It's violence too. Consider yourself warned. That particular scene was reused from something I wrote earlier.

* * *

Deafening silence met his ears. No one spoke as the other two magical practitioners simply stared at him and Harry looked back, obviously waiting for an answer to his question. After a minute of two, he decided to take a chance and threw the wand at Black. Ollivander was outraged, which was what Harry was counting on.

"Boy!" the wandmaker exclaimed. "You don't just throw a wand as special as that! It could break! All that work for naught!"

Harry simply uttered one word to the wizened Wizard's confusion. "Expelliarmus."

Bellatrix smiled at the ease that he had handled the situation. Curious, she waved the wand, her shocked stupor having been broken by the sudden freezing she felt the moment that she touched the wand. With a flourish, a fantastic array of ice bolts appeared out of her wand. She looked at wand in shock. Her previous wand didn't act like this. What was different about these runes? She looked at Harry.

He simply shrugged as his mind raced. There were several possible reasons for that reaction. First, she was an elemental. Elementals were…well, people that controlled the elements or were naturally affiliated with, something that was somewhat rare, but not too rare. They often weren't too different from the average Witch and Wizard, but these elementals were often able to augment their powers by somehow infusing their spells with a particular element.

Second, it was the runes. They seemed to be a combination of Ancient Egyptian and other probably obscure and unidentifiable languages. It was ludicrous. How the bloody hell was that trance induced? And how did knowledge of such things come to be? Could Morgaine simply have provided the catalyst? Perhaps…

Third, it was magic. Magic was often obscure and was misunderstood. Not even those like Morgaine seemed to have been able to decipher the inner workings of magic. It was something wild and something that was tamed, savage and civilised. It was worse than trying to understand the inner workings of humans.

Ollivander spoke up as Bellatrix started to experiment with several charms, like the Levitation one. "Sorry for my outburst, Mr. Potter."

"Understandable," Harry said, saving his breath.

"Excuse me for asking," Ollivander then said, "But how in Merlin's name were you able to make such a wand? I've studied far and wide, only to be able to make wands that don't even rival the one that you've given to your friend here."

Falling back on his trusty answer, Harry uttered another word. "Magic."

Ollivander surprisingly rolled his eyes. "A serious answer, Mr. Potter."

"I don't know."

Ollivander looked at him sharply, dragging him out of his observation of the wand that Black was flicking back and forth. "But…that's impossible. You couldn't make a wand that rivals that of the Wizards from hundreds of years ago without any knowledge."

"And yet, I did,' was all that Harry said.

"B-but-"

"Ollivander, I tell you, I don't know what came over me, a trance of sorts, I guess," Harry admitted. "Don't ask me any further questions about this because I don't know about this anymore than you do."

The wandmaker simply looked at him and retreated back into the shelves without uttering another word.

Harry, taking things into stride, then asked Black, "Like the wand?"

She said, her attention being suddenly shifted to the prepubescent Wizard, with great hesitation, "Yes…Is this something that you did on purpose or that you can call upon, or is this something that is completely and utterly random."

Harry thought for a moment. "It's probably random." He thought he heard a damn and something about having a massively overpowered ally. "So, ready to get your other supplies?"

"What?" Bellatrix asked, noticing something rather surprising. "You just act like nothing had happened? How old are _you_ anyways?"

"Eleven…" Harry said softly. "This is becoming something normal in my life. Well, not this per se, but things of this sort. Weird visions, ludicrously dangerous events, world shattering information…stuff like that."

"And so, does that make you dangerous, in your opinion?" The Witch asked testily.

Harry mulled over various answers. He could appear humble or perhaps arrogant with the simply answer of yes or no. Perhaps he'd be a bit more indirect…" Some may say yes, some may say no. I'd say that it depends on my mood and the situation."

"Your mood?" Black questioned him further.

"It's a rather brilliant magical amplifier, as you've probably heard, Black, with your supposed reputation in dueling."

She simply nodded and promptly asked if they should go on to the other shops, shivers still traveling down her spine as she fingered the wand, tracing the runes. The Wizard she had come across was odd…very particular in the way that he conducted himself. Much like a pure blood, though it was obvious that he lacked not only the mannerisms, but the knowledge that most pure blooded had even at eleven.

On that note, he was _eleven_ years old and making Ollivander, perhaps one of the best wandmakers in the entirety of Europe, surprised. She left her thoughts, immediately thinking of the possible ways that she could lie to the shopkeepers. After all, the Blacks were renowned for not only their dueling, but for their Slytherin ways. Unlike little Siri who seemed so much like a Hufflepuff or a Gryffindor for her liking. But after all, he had only been a little kid when she had seen him.

Walking through the streets, her wand holstered rather discreetly, she felt her eyes sting again. Could she go back to the life she had lived only hours earlier. What the hell had she been thinking, messing with Time-Turners? Magic was an incomprehensible thing, something that most people shouldn't experiment with. After all, that's why they had the Unspeakables…

She squashed that emotion like a bug. Mind before the heart. She had to assert herself in this new, familiar place. And so, she did.

As for Harry, he simply observed Black silently, accompanying her to the various shops that she _must've_ visited even in her time. She seemed to adapt rather quickly, something that he found intriguing. From everything that he had learned, from the rumor mills and from Blaise, there hadn't been any mention of the Black family. A family that was supposedly elite, if Bellatrix's Malfoy-like attitude meant anything.

For the next hour or so, they went around, gather supplies, Harry providing yet another bag from his seemingly bottomless bag. Exiting the last shop, Harry felt his scar burn. Panicking, he cast a shoddy privacy charm in an alley he had suddenly rushed into and frantically searched for a potion, failing to find one as he felt himself collapse. He saw Bellatrix follow him, erecting another ward or two before he felt himself being catapulted into another vision.

-It's Another Bloody Vision (joy)—

Harry found himself at the center of the room, his compatriots standing at the edges of the room. He smiled ferally at the struggling group of mudbloods at the very center of the room, bound on and placed on top of a table like pigs. Harry smiled at the things that he'd be able to do with these forsaken mudbloods. After deciding that everyone he had summoned was in the room, Harry then cast an amplification charm and spoke. "Today is the day that we will take revenge for those who they have taken! We shall kill them all, steal all of their hope and joy, and _crush_ them under our feet. Mudbloods nor traitors have no place in our new world, and what are these pieces of filth here?"

"Mudbloods!" they had shouted, bloodlust creeping into their voices.

"Yes, my friends. We will have fun tonight." Harry said, walking over to his right hand, his most devout follower, Bellatrix. He simply nodded towards one of the women and let her have her fun.

She pinned the bitch against the floor, driving a nail through each finger, obviously relishing each scream and whimper. Heating a knife, she pressed the flat of her blade against his cheek, causing the smell of burning flesh to reach their noses.

"NO!" the creature cried out, the silencing charm having been released. Tears streamed down its now red face. "Please just stop!" it begged to their enjoyment.

"And why would I do that?" Bellatrix asked just loud enough to permeate the bloodlust everyone was experiencing. The other mudbloods were sweating, struggling frantically against their binds. Tears flowed freely down their eyes as they opened their mouths in a silent, grotesque plea for help. Who cared? They were a pathetic waste of blood, bone, and magic.

Harry savored the fear, each time that blood flew into the air, blade cut into the body. Bellatrix's eyes sparkling dangerously as she shoved the knife into its hand, driving it deep into the ground. She picked the hammer up again, pounding each nail deeper into the wood, ravaging his flesh and shattering his knuckles. She conjured a scalpel and used it to grotesquely carve the word, "mudblood," into its arm, obviously loving the sensation of flesh being torn, ripped apart.

"You mudbloods don't understand! We will kill ALL OF YOU!" It flinched as she yelled at him. Suddenly, she jammed the scalpel deep into its arm, causing it to howling pain. She conjured a ball of fire and used it to cause his skin to char, to shrivel up. She pulled the scalpel with joyous abandon, causing the bitch to scream even more.

Standing up for effect, she slammed her heel onto its face, causing a sickening _crunch_ to be heard as the mudblood coughed up blood. She smiled savagely at it. Its howls which were truly music to her ears. It didn't deserve anything less.

Looking down, she windlessly conjured a saw and started ripping into its arm, causing flesh to fly in all direction. The only reason it was still alive was due to magic. Hanging on my a few inches of flesh, Bellatrix pulled on the loosely hanging arm, ripping it off of the body, causing the bitch to scream and shout as blood continued to come out its mouth. She knelt down next to its prone body, picked up a glowing knife, branding the mudblood with a rather familiar sign on its chest. It held the mark of Death and they would consume it. Hurrying things up, Bellatrix shoved the knife deep into its thigh, the force of it alone shattering the bitch's bone which caused several shards of bone to embed themselves deep into the muscles, shredding them. It screamed bloody murder and she was sent into a euphoric state.

She gripped the knife's handle and, with a savage grin, tore its leg open, dragging to knife down its leg until its shin. Blood covered the floor, her face, her clothes. She could see the bones in its leg. That was simply an added benefit. Deciding on a different course of action, she grabbed her wand and conjured fire to prevent more blood loss (though, it wouldn't really help). She grabbed it like a knife and shoved it directly into the mudblood's eye. It gave another scream, before Bellatrix pulled the wand out without care and shouted _CRUCIO,_ causing the body to spasm violently.

She leaned closer so that her face was just above his and said, with a shred of sanity, "Well, I'm finished."

It seemed to look at her in relief. Harry smiled at the misdirection. Only Harry could match her sadism, and he loved her for it.

"Oh? You thought that I meant that you'd be freed?" she asked with hopeless abandon, a manic glint in her eyes. "Not even close."

She let her magic pool in her hands and pushed, allowing it to seek into every crevice of its pathetic core. Its face stretched to unimaginable proportion as she poured even more magic into her hands. Its head blew, scattering pieces of brain, scarps of skin, and bone all over the place, the mess being kept from those at the edge of the room by Harry's quick wandwork. She cleaned herself, casting an _Evanesco._

Voldemort, Harry, waved his hand, letting the Death Eaters swarm the mudbloods, ripping them to rather literal shreds. They'd bring out more later. Screams filled the room. Bellatrix simply stood next to Harry, looking on as the latter smiled at the pure and utter carnage. They'd rid the world of this filth.

-His eyes opened—

Groggily, Harry got up. He cursed his inability to actually count the number of potions. They were his only barrier against the pain. His body pulsated in pain and groaned softly, using his wand to quickly clean the blood from his scar. He found a rather blank faced Bellatrix looking at him, something piercing his heart. Was it fear, or was it compassion? "What the bloody hell was that?" she asked, her voice soft.

"Something that you shouldn't have seen. It was a vision, rather unlike the one I experienced in Ollivanders." He managed to keep his tone neutral, obviously giving off a wrong emotion or vibe as she scoffed.

"Would you care to explain a bit more, Potter, or do you want me to spread word about this?" Black threatened which was odd, considering the fact that she owed him for the wand and for bringing her to Dumbledore which allowed her to avoid an untimely death.

Damn, she knew how to keep him on his toes. "And would anyone believe you over a respected and powerful figure in Hogwarts?"

"And what would an ickle first-year know that I wouldn't? What makes you think that I won't even try?" She asked, something in her voice.

"Well," Harry softly laughed, "I can do _this._ " He didn't hesitate. No one outside of his allies could know of this. Too many would exploit this and word would get out. He brought out his inner demon. Hissing, _Incarcerous ,_ he pointed his wand into the ground, something that Bellatrix laughed at before vines sprouted from the ground and bound her arms, hands, and legs which forced Black into a kneeling position. She cried out in shock. Thankfully, he had caught her by surprise.

A small thought at the corner of his mind then asked, _What the fuck do you think you're doing?_

Another side of Harry obliterated it as he then said, "You know I could Obliviate you…"

"No, you couldn't!" Bellatrix all but shouted. Harry instinctively and silently thanked Merlin for the privacy wards, before remembering last night.

"Yes, I certainly could," Harry smiled, "But I won't. The collateral damage of me trying to work with the spell would be a bit too much for you to handle. So, I'm going to call in the Oath."

He subtly cast a compression spell on her, something that was developed to help squeeze packages due to Wizards' laziness, and let his magic seep out to imitate the binding of the Oath. The Oath had been lifted by the time that they left Ollivanders, but she probably wouldn't know that. Or she did, but he was able to persuade her nonverbally that it was still active.

Her eyes widened as she then said, "But that's impossible! The Oath…oh. Fuck you."

Harry quickly thought back to the Oath. _Oh_ , it said in ' _exchange_ for,' 'not she will not do this and this will happen.' Harry silently thanked whatever had made him say that. "Yes, _exactly_ Bellatrix. Now, I'll just make the part about harming and killing me and my friends invalid, because the alliance should speak for itself." The air around them seemed to softly pop. He waved his wand over Bellatrix, causing her to fall on the ground, face-forward. He waved his wand again, softly hissing a spell as she got up. It hit her and enveloped her in golden ropes. Black softly gasped as she felt the wounds close. She then smirked, getting back to her supplies.

"You know, you're not the intimidating with your pudgy face and everything…" she simply said in a mocking tone.

"Well, no one could know about it," Harry said defensively, immediately sighing. "I guess this is the part where I have to apologise?"

"And that just bloody ruined your entire act. Do you think you _have_ to? No, you bloody don't." Bellatrix said, teaching him a lesson. "Listen. Because of the bloody Alliance, I'm not going to have an incompetent Slytherin. When you're trying to instill fear into someone, whether it be a friend or an enemy, you _don't_ fucking apologize. Okay?"

Harry nodded. He then asked, "Which year are you in anyways?"

"Second."

"Well, that explains a thing or two. Ready to go?"

Black simply looked at him, sarcasm dripping from her voice, "No, Potter, I'm not when I have your charmed bag around my shoulder and my wand holstered. What the bloody hell do you think?"

"Fair enough," was all that Harry said, mentally shivering at the way that her voice reminded her of the vision. Merlin, his head pounded. He'd have to visit Snape again.

Black's voice was suddenly soft again. "Thanks for the wand."

"That? Yeah, you're welcome. You owe me…" Harry let his voice trail.

"I never would've known that. Good job at making my thank you rather useless." Black deadpanned.

Harry smiled warmly, knowing that his actions didn't have much effect on the two of them. _It was a necessary action,_ Harry justified. He had to establish who had the greater power at the time. "Let's go."

And so they left the area, arriving in the Headmaster's office by Floo. Unfortunately, Harry, Bellatrix arrived first and was able to see his rather embarrassing entrance. She snorted softly at his clumsiness, rolling her eyes and her lips curving upwards. "Elegant, Potter."

Harry cast several quick spells. "Thanks for the input, Black."

"You're welcome. I hope to inflate that ego of yours even further."

Dumbledore cleared his voice, drawing the attention of the two of them. "Well, it's rather refreshing to see you, Miss Black, happy again. I presume that you didn't have much trouble finding a wand and gather your supplies."

Bellatrix shifted uncomfortably and seemed to think about telling the Headmaster about the wand. Harry wished with his entire being that she wouldn't say anything. "Well, it took a rather long time for us to find a wand, and it was a rather different wand than I had fifty years ago."

"May I see?" The Headmaster looked intrigued.

"It was…unusual to say the least." Bellatrix admitted as she pulled out the wand and walked over to the Headmaster's desk.

The Headmaster hummed, obviously interested at the exquisite wand. He studied it, turning it over and over again. He made rather appreciative noises for several minutes before saying, "My, my. It seems like Ollivander has stepped up his dear old game. I haven't seen a wand this unique in decades."

Bellatrix smirked, knowing full well the Headmaster's attention was on the wand, "Well, he seemed to be in a rather…interesting mood."

The headmaster said nothing to this, continuing to study the wand for a few more moments before saying, "I believe that you're rather ready to have your classes?"

"Well…I'm not particularly sure about that with my time gap and things of that sort."

The Headmaster laughed softly. "Well, the curriculum has stayed the same for the past century, so I highly doubt that you're unable to catch up to your peers. What was the date when…the incident occurred?"

"October 31st, 1953." Bellatrix said in a steady voice.

"Ah, 1953. I presume that you were in your second year?"

"Yes."

"Then you'll be able to quickly catch up to your peers, but if you need additional help, then I'm sure that you'll can find help in Mr. Potter."

Bellatrix laughed haughtily. "And why would I consult him?"

"I believe from the things that every single teacher is saying, he should be able to compete with third years, perhaps fourth years in certain subjects. It seems like Charms and Transfiguration are his two strongest subjects, which, if I recall correctly and is rather convenient, are two subjects that you had trouble with."

Bellatrix said nothing at this, Dumbledore reaching out to give her wand back. She took it, glared at Harry, and remained silent as the Headmaster then said, "Well, I believe that I should give you your background."

He _Accio'd_ a paper and seemed to read from it. "Hmm…the good news is that you'll be able to keep your surname, though you'll have to change your first name. You were adopted by a family called the Kenways. This was a family that is conveniently scattered throughout the world, some can be found in Russia, China, Australia, and the Americas. The Blacks and the Kenways in England, which are your family, became rather close due to an unusual set of circumstances. From a quick bit of research, I was able to determine that this had actually happened. Using this information, you'd say that your father was Sirius and an undetermined Witch. Due to his sentence in Azkaban, you were placed under the custody of the Kenways and kept under wraps due to the reputation that Sirius now has. That should be sufficient enough to prevent most people from digging too deep, but I'll have to pull some strings before this will be unable to be disproved with extensive research."

Bellatrix simply remained silent for the entirety of Dumbledore's little monologue and nodded at the end of it, obviously dealing with her emotions. She stayed like that, her eyes wide and glassy before they seemed to refocus. "My name's going to be…Belladonna. Pandora's a bit too conceited when it comes to names and it'll also make people wonder why the bloody hell my parents named me like that. At least I'm used to the beginning part of the name…"

"Belladonna?" Dumbledore asked. "Forgive me for prying, but do you have a reason for choosing such a similar and ominous name?"

"It was what Narcissa would've named her child."

The eyebrows of both Dumbledore and Harry rose. Harry then muttered, "Well, that's interesting. Malfoy becoming a girl and being named Belladonna. Probably wouldn't be enough to stop his pigheadedness."

"Mr. Potter, I would ask you to refrain from insulting students in my presence."

"Yes, sir." Harry said, noting that the Headmaster had added that last part.

Dumbledore said after a moment of thinking, "Well then. I believe that I'll have to tell the other teachers about your predicament, Miss Black. You should get situated in the Slytherin dorms. I believe that you'll be able to take your old room."

"What about the previous resident?" Bellatrix asked unexpectedly.

"The previous resident? Sally-Anne Perks had a family emergency across the ocean in the United States. I'm afraid that she'll be unable to come back, hence your assignment to number 15."

Dumbledore went back to his desk, his phoenix trilling softly as he then said, "Miss Black, I believe that concludes our meeting, although if you want to know more about time-travel, then I suggest coming back at a later date so I have several books on hand. I do wish you a good day, and hopwe that you'll be able to...fit in. I would say that I wish that you hadn't come to this time, but I would be lying as it means I'll be able to keep you away from original future." He then pulled out a few papers and handed it to her. "I believe you'll need these." And that was the end of their meeting.

In the span of the next hour and a half, Harry was able to help Black reorient herself with the castle as well as divulge several pieces of information with her. They sat in the common room, discussing various things, Harry going into detail the things that occurred in Slytherin as well as the basic events that Black had missed out, skipping nearly forty years' worth of information. He supplied answers to her questions about the people she should become friends with, inter-House relationships, and the people that she should avoid due to bad reputation, stupidity, or a combination. Harry told her about his friends, though was rather cautious as Black's eyes seemed to sparkle when he mentioned Blaise and his mother. They continued their discussion until Slytherins started pouring out of the halls and into the common room. Many acted like normal teenagers, some snogging, others softly talking. But it was more subdued than normal. People had to be cautious in this House. Harry saw some glancing at Black, but said nothing as she got up and started to gather her things.

With a start, Harry realized that it was nearly time for Transfiguration. It simply wouldn't do to anger the Mother Lion. Hurriedly, he ran to the classroom, ignoring the looks that his peers sent him. They couldn't really do anything to the Boy-Who-Lived, what with his reputation for killing a troll singlehandedly _and_ getting hospitalized for facing some supposed great danger in the Forbidden Forest. He had to thank Blaise for that one.

He didn't notice the eyes that watched him from within the classroom. Eyes that spoke of vengeance and hatred. The man behind the eyes softly contemplated his plans. He still had to work on them, refine them like a blade. A blade that he'd shove in between the Vanquisher's shoulders. And perhaps get another loyal follower on his side.

Someone's eyes widened as they saw the murderous intent, but discreetly kept walking at a normal pace. She had to tell Harry. It was a good thing that she was in the same class as him in the morning.

* * *

A/N: Hi again. That was my attempt at a torture scene. Sorry for being unoriginal to those who think they've seen that before. For those offended, it's rated M for a reason. It was somewhat inspired by Princess of the Blacks (8233291-it's astounding).

Well, I'm working with the suggestions. Bellatrix was obviously brainwashed, though the financial aspect of her could be integrated. She's also becoming her own person which is scaring me. I'm afraid of the things in my brain and I'm terrified of my imagination because they are horrifyingly graphic and disturbing for most people that I come into contact with (did someone get the reference without searching for it on the internet).

As usual, _**review**_ , please. Suggestions and critical responses are also welcome. If you want, tear this story apart so I can rebuild it.

There are things that _certainly_ will be addressed by the next chapter, so don't fret if the visions, Bellatrix, and the trance won't be adressed as well as Harry's interaction with magic. I'm still...sorting things out in my head.

Harry seems to act rather different in this chapter. It was probably because of the fact that he had seen the vision. Perhaps Voldemort's personality is bleeding into his...perhaps, though, if it is (which I honestly have no idea if it is) then it's probably because of something other than what most people are probably thinking of.

Now the responses.

 **Gime'SS:** Yourrrr welllllllcome (imagine the song)

 **Who Are You What Do You Want:** Well, I'm not sure whether to say your welcome or to say sorry...Thanks for liking the chapter (a chapter that was unusual).

 **Riniko22:** That could certainly work what with the supposed perspective of a failed spell or experiment. Perhaps...Bloody thank you for the suggestion.

 **xNaruHina** : Because I can't see well, I just deciphered your profile picture. But that's not what you want to hear. I'm thinking about your suggestions as well (side note: breaking someone's mind that is sympathetic to your cause opens up rather interesting things to explore and exploit). Were you also talking about the one who received the Order of Merlin (because that's basically the only one that had anything of substance)?

To those wondering, a mint is a place where coins are manufactured. By Harry saying it doesn't make sense, he is basically saying it doesn't make cents. It's a bad joke, shown by Hermione's reaction.

 **DJDeadpool** : Ehhhh...I don't like the idea. Too much for me to handle _and_ I'm still trying to work on Harry/Daphne. Bellatrix is a much of a wildcard. To Harry, as of right now, she simply serves as a source of entertainment (get your mind out of the gutter to those reading this), an ally, and a source of information. I have plans to help fast forward several things with her introduction.

Well, I'd best get back to preparing my mind for the terrifying thing called basketball practice that my parents forced me to partake in. I'll also try working with my mind. In about a week, I'll be going to camp for about five days. That might set things back. Especially with my recovering from an extended exposure to people my age (the _horror_ )

Cheers

HHS


	18. Sights with Hufflepuffs and Belladonna

A/N: Sorry for the wait. Had to help my dad day after day cleaning out storage units while I planned the interactions between our characters. Black...is well, great to write.

* * *

Harry was completely and utterly bored in Transfiguration, and, considering everything, this was to be expected. Among the deathly events, information, and the visions from the accursed, supposedly dead Voldemort, as well as the fact that Harry had studied a significant portion of fourth year material, then Harry would almost indefinitely be bored. Any normal child going through these things would be. How the bloody hell Hermione still managed to keep her interest in things such as school, especially when Harry knew that she was able to compete with him, Harry didn't know.

As a result of his disinterest, he found himself transfiguring his various school supplies into animals, animals which, using a bit of a will, magic, and a series of animation spells he had found in the Secret Library, as well as a powerful silencing charm, fought. Daphne looked mildly amused when she glanced at him, nudging a certain Blaise Zabini who sat right next to her, not too close to Harry. He rose an eyebrow as he then wrote something down, managing to levitate the paper over to Harry to avoid any possible interference from Daphne. Tracey simply continued to pay attention to what McGongall was writing on the chalkboard.

From a minute of listening, Harry determined that McGonagall was discussing the differences between Transfiguring an object and an animal. But Harry focused on Blaise's note. It, in Blaise's ludicrously flowery font, asked for the spells that Harry was using. Evidently, Blaise wanted to recreate the spell, perhaps show his friends in return for a favor. Knowing how this would go, Harry then wrote, asking what Blaise's price was, levitating it back.

Instead of writing, Blaise then mouthed the word 'books.' An interesting proposal, a proposal that Harry nodded his head to. The spells weren't too complex, and Blaise _could_ perform them with a bit of guidance. With a wave of his hand, Harry stilled his creatures as McGonagall turned around. That was odd. Something that shouldn't have happened. How did that happen, the windless magic? Harry had read of such a phenomenon, often being seen in either spells that a wizard had used on a consistent basis or if a wizard was powerful enough. Perhaps it was the memories that was triggering these new effects. It certainly seemed like that. First the wand and now this…Hopefully Morgaine would be there to talk with him later.

"Mr. Potter," McGonagall sternly said, driving Harry's thoughts off the rail, "What in Merlin's name are you doing with those objects? Five points from Slytherin for not paying attention."

Daphne _and_ Draco had the same expression, a smirk on their face, though obviously for different reasons. One was because of hatred, the other was out of amusement. The entire class turned around to see Harry standing like a doe in headlights, just about to be hit by a rushing car.

Might as well tell the truth, right?

So Harry said, "I wasn't paying attention…"

"Pay attention, Mr. Potter, unless you want to fail the exam later this week."

All Harry did was stay silent, although there was a soft glint in his eyes. He would inevitably ace the test. He could match _fourth_ years, so a second year test wouldn't be too hard.

The professor simply went back to teaching at the blackboard. After a while, Harry found himself reviewing Morgaine's memories. She had given him a treasure trove of information. Her memories allowed him to access spells he had never heard of, know things that no ordinary first year should have, as well as change his outlook on the world. Suddenly, there was an assignment in front of him. Harry could hear the Professor giving instruction, but he didn't pay much attention. He immediately set out to work. It wasn't a particularly hard assignment, just a rather lengthy one. A few inches here, a few inches there and that was it. When he reached the final question, he looked it over and turned it in with Susan a few minutes later.

Being first two to finish their work, Harry found himself talking with Susan about mindless things, erecting a Silencing charm so that no one would be disturbed. They discussed rumors, crushes, gossiped, etc. She asked about this in Transfiguration and he gave her an explanation. The odd thing was that Susan had this odd expression on her face, a mix of worry and urgency. Harry, who noticed this after several minutes of talking, asked what was wrong.

The rest of the class was starting to finish. Susan suddenly said, "Someone's out to get you."

That was _definitely_ something that a person should drop into the middle of the conversation. This was something that he knew, but, obviously, he was curious as to why she said it.

"Who?" Harry asked, looking right at her. She seemed even more nervous, her face seeming to have frozen in the particular expression. One of fear. Her eyes stared at some invisible being behind him. And suddenly, she relaxed.

"Professor Quirrell." She said as softly as she could.

Quirrell? That was odd. He'd have to tell Dumbledore. Perhaps he knew that, perhaps he didn't. He couldn't judge the Headmaster. After all, not knowing this would prevent his paranoia, yet make him vulnerable.

"Excuse me for asking, but what makes you s-s-say that?" Harry asked, briefly imitating the ludicrous DADA professor.

"Ah well," Susan said softly after snorting at him, It's because he has two auras."

It took Harry a minute to decipher what that meant. First the sentence, then the sentence itself. A thought popped up. Could Harry use Susan as a spy? But then the more important question appeared. What was Quirrell doing with two auras? "And why is that odd?"

"Because people have one aura linked to their magic, intents, thoughts, their emotions, etc. But in this case…" Susan let her voice trail off.

"He has two auras. So, you're saying that his auras showed his intents towards me? How?" Harry asked.

Susan sighed. "It's hard to explain, but there were two spheres in his head, both being a combination of black and red, both denoting dangerous emotions. I also saw that he was looking at you." She looked at him oddly. You're not worried?"

Harry gave a short bark of laughter. "I'm not worried?" Harry asked then changed his voice to soft undertones. "I have no bloody fucking clue what I'm feeling right now. If you're right, which you most undoubtedly are, then I have something dangerous to deal with."

Susan threw a glance at him. "Can't Dumbledore simply fire him?"

"No. He won't as Quirrel's dangerous right now and he wants to neutralize a threat. He might call the Aurors, the Dementors. I'll have to go to him. In the meantime, just stay as far away from Q-Quirrel as possible, OK?" Harry said in a knowing tone.

She nodded, looking at him and seeing that she couldn't pursue the topic.

Harry could feel a surge of anger, hatred, course in his veins. His professor was harboring the Wizard who had killed his parents, who had killed hundreds, if not thousands whether directly or indirectly. He was the man who destroyed his childhood, took his parents away from him. He deserved to die! Then Harry felt a pang of pain, sadness. He felt vulnerable.

Susan looked at him in concern. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Harry said.

She hugged him, obviously not caring at the people that stared at them and disregarding his answer. Harry smiled for the briefest second before wrapping his arms around Susan. It was a few second before they separated, looking around. Harry felt a small twinge in his heart. How could such a simple motion affect him like this.

"We should stop attracting attention," Harry said.

She looked around and nodded as well. Cracking a smile, she then said, "I thought you liked attention, Mr. Potter?"

"Well," Harry started, "you're right about that and as much as I want to become pronounced a god among Wizards, McGonagall is staring."

She giggled softly, saying, "Well, that's gonna ruin your plans, won't it?"

"Yeah."

"You know," she then said, "You know where to find me. And if I'm not there, then go to the Hogwarts kitchen. In the same hallway, there'll be barrels. The barrel second from the bottom, middle of the second row, should open if tapped in the rhythm of 'Helga Hufflepuff.' If you go down the passageway that'll open, then you should find yourself in the Hufflepuff Common Room."

Harry looked at her sharply. Why was she giving him this information?

Susan seemed to somehow know what was going through his mind and then said, "We're friends. Remember that?"

Harry cracked a smile. "I remember."

"Then don't always think that I have an angle, that I'm looking for a favour in return."

Nodding, Harry agreed. He ended the Silencing charm and continued to converse in soft tones as the people around them were done.

They waited around, Daphne obviously wanting to speak to Harry in private. Harry simply went back to his figurines, playing with them. Creating tiny toys, homes, etc. until they, the students, were dismissed. Daphne pulled him into one of the lesser known hallways, Harry letting her.

"What happened back there?" Daphne asked. "You basically interrupted class, hugging her."

Harry mentally sighed. This was happening on a consistent basis. "First, it was the other way around. She hugged me first. As for what happened, I was told of a potential adversary."

"What kind of adversary?" Daphne pressed further.

"The deadly kind. Like the one that night…"

Daphne simply emitted a noise of acknowledgement, obviously remembering his venture into the Medical Wing. After a moment, she then said, quickly changing topics, "I've been hearing rumors that you were hanging out with the new girl."

Harry rose his eyebrows. News travelled fast at Hogwarts, something that still shocked him despite having dealt firsthand with the results of it. Twice. "Who told you?"

"Bulstrode."

"Huh," Harry said, "that's a first. Didn't know that _she_ stalked me."

"Well, I shouldn't tell you about the shrine…" Daphne trailed off, sounding thoughtful.

Harry looked at her in horror, obviously playing along. "What?!"

"Yeah…" Daphne trailed off before bursting into laughter; Harry doing the same.

"But back to the matter at hand," Daphne said, "who is she, the new girl?"

Harry actually sighed this time. "Well, her name is Belladonna Black and-"

"Wait. Black? As in the House that the infamous murderer belongs to?" Daphne asked heatedly.

"Yep. Black. Unless you thought you were referring to the colour black…" Harry trailed off, getting a glare from Daphne. "Moving on, then. She is apparently a bastard, not the insult, who was raised by a family named the Kenways, and she was home-schooled." Harry let her fill in the blanks. "You know, we'd best get to Flitwick."

Daphne then said, "I have to do something first. See you there."

Harry said his part and set out to Professor Flitwick, noticing that Hedwig was on her way to him. So, he stopped and waited and promptly felt Hedwig clamp her talons into his shoulder. She had a note attached to her leg. He managed to somehow untie it, causing Hedwig to fly off without him saying a thing to her. Harry mentally shrugged. Oh well.

He shoved it into his bag. He'd read it later. He had to get to his training session.

Apparently, he had sessions with Flitwick in the morning during Flitwick's only free period, excluding lunch and the period of time after classes. It wouldn't do to make him wait. After all, it wouldn't do to be late to lessons that would save his life…

Opening the door to the room that Dumbledore had provided for their sessions, Harry found himself facing Black sitting disinterestedly in one of the chairs in a corner of the room. What was she doing here? Daphne and the rest hadn't arrived yet. Flitwick would be here exactly when what Harry considered his second period started. He had a few minutes.

Black then asked, "What are you doing here, Potter?"

"I'd ask you the same thing, Black," Harry stated. "Or is it Belladonna?"

"Oi," Black said indignantly, "it's Bellatrix in private. We're in an alliance. And as for the question, I asked first."

Harry nodded, saying, "Then it's Harry too. I'm here to learn from Flitwick."

"Makes sense, what with you being the Boy-Who-Lived and all…special treatment," Bellatrix added with a hint of her sneer.

Harry snorted and rolled his eyes. "If you knew even more, then you'd say otherwise."

"Then tell me." Bellatrix holstered the wand that she'd been playing with, and stared at him in a daring manner.

"I can't. Not without Dumbledore's express permission." Harry mentally winced as he said that but kept his exterior calm. Black was bound to say something.

"And oh, so you're following the Headmaster blindly like a sheep following a shepherd," Bellatrix countered. There it was. Now, let's see how he'll counter that.

Harry then said, considering if he should take out his Voice, "It's not like that. It's a matter of life and death for not only me, but the people around me. Let's drop this before someone overhears us." She could be so infuriating at times. It was an odd thing, the fact that at times she acted her age and was rather fun to be around, while at others, it was as if she were Malfoy. Thankfully, she dropped it.

"Well," she said cheerily, as if nothing had happened, "what're you learning from Flitwick?"

"Currently, it's the basic stuff. Dodging, how to have an offensive mindset, etcetera, etcetera. We're not doing much in terms of how to counter an opponent using deadlier spells," Harry replied, sitting next to Black as he casted a quick _Tempus_. Only two minutes. Where were they?

As if on cue, Daphne, Blaise, and Tracey walked through. Hermione followed through a few seconds later, struggling to carry various books that she gingerly placed next to the door.

Black then piped up, saying, "So, Potter, who are these puny ickle first years?"

Harry rolled his eyes at her. "Shut it, Black. This is Blaise Zabini, Daphne Greengrass, Tracey Davis, and Hermione Granger the Know-It-All." He pointed at each of his friends respectively, smiling as he said Hermione's title, causing her to smile in return. Black got up and shook their hands primly. Harry then said, "Blaise, if you don't know who this is, then I'll be surprised."

The mentioned looked at Harry in a mockingly shocked expression. "How dare you insinuate that I know of everything happening in this castle!"

Harry rolled his eyes again. "Please just shut up, Zabini. You _definitely_ know who this is. For everyone else who doesn't have the gift of having an intricate network of spies, I mean contacts, this is Belladonna Black. She's been homeschooled."

Their reactions were varying, Hermione looking at Black, measuring her. Blaise simply switched his glance between Harry and Black constantly, raising his eyebrow with a smirk forming on his face. Tracey looked at her accepting Black, although there was a glint in her eyes. Whether that was good or bad, Harry didn't know. Daphne kept her face deceivingly neutral, though Harry could somehow tell that she was skeptical of Black.

A voice suddenly piped in. "Well, that saves me from the trouble of introducing Miss Black to everyone here and vice versa. Thank you, Harry." It was Flitwick.

"Thank you, Professor," Harry said, turning around.

"We shan't delay the lesson. The Headmaster said that Miss Black would be here not only to learn but to help the rest of you, especially Mr. Potter due to the Headmaster's requests, with your technique due to the fact that she has received training. Supposedly." Flitwick added. "Although, before the lesson begins and despite my previous words, I'd like to see if Miss Black's training has paid off. If you want, we could duel…" He left the offer hanging in the air, lacking his normal teaching tone, and it was simply too good. With a chaotic glint in Black's eyes, she accepted.

Flitwick motioned for Black to come over to the space cleared for dueling. It was a rather large room, perhaps half the size of the cafeteria in Harry's old school. Harry and the others pulled up chairs to look as Flitwick waved his wand in intricate manners, softly chanting under his breath. A standard dueling shield/dome. It briefly materialized, forming a deep blue wall before seeming to disappear into thin air. But it was obviously still there, if one simply 'felt' around for the magic.

Flitwick then said in a loud voice, "Normal dueling rules. Though, we use only nonlethal spells and we aim to incapacitate."

Bellatrix nodded, readying herself. Flitwick then said, "Begin."

Immediately, Black threw an _Incarcerous_ spell, nonverbally, while dodging a _Stupefy_. She did something with her left hand, and Harry could feel her magic change. Suddenly, she moved faster, at inhuman speeds, casting faster and faster. Flitwick seemed to realize the same thing, moving oh so slightly to dodge her spells. He quickly weaved his wand this way and that, casting stationary shields while also snapping a series of spells. He seemed to be a monster while Black was ludicrously nimble, dodging his spells. She threw jinxes that ranged from the _Jelly-legs_ to ones that caused boils. She focused mainly on those, obviously attempting to weaken Flitwick's shields, but it was apparently failing. Flitwick blatantly was taking route that consumed the most amount of magic. His wand, nay, his arm couldn't be seen as it was moving so fast. Black was casting and conjuring shields as she moved this way and that. She moved in a zig zag, coming closer to Flitwick. She tended to roll towards Flitwick. As she came closer, she suddenly cast a shield piercing charm directly followed by a _Stupefy_. But somehow, Flitwick say this coming. He dodged to the side, erected a shield, and conjured a sphere with the hand that wasn't holding his wand. Bellatrix suddenly returned to dodging while casting varying spells, mainly underpowering them. And suddenly she was dealing with six snakes. That diverted her attention as she was forced to vanish them. And the _Stupefy_ met her body, filling her vision just as she finished the last snake off.

Flitwick made a quick motion and the shield came down as he cast an _Ennervate._ When she was awake, the other students in the room clapped softly.

Flitwick then said, "Well, obviously you had your training. Now, let's begin the lesson. Hopefully, Miss Black, you'll be able to find Mister Potter a suitable companion having met him earlier. Miss Greengrass with Miss Granger. Miss Davis and Mister Zabini. Each student will fight their partner. One group at a time while the rest goes over the texts that I've prepared. Miss Greengrass and Davis will be the first to spar, then Mister Zabini and Granger, then the last two." He flicked his wand, causing books to come flying from a bookshelf and the desks and chairs to fall in place. It was a good thing that he motioned for them to stand up before moving the chairs. They each sat across of their partners, the chairs and desks arranged in such a position that there were two groups of chairs. As they moved to their areas, Flitwick cast an Obscuring Charm, creating a thin magical veil between the groups. They also couldn't see the duel.

And so, they followed his instructions. Some books were solely focused on the various forms and techniques in dueling while there were others that included information on various harmless spells that were capable of incapacitating, spells that no ordinary first year should know. But Harry knew these spells. He knew all of them, after flipping through the pages. Black seemed to be in the same boat. They both focused on dueling and not the spells involved. And so, Harry was able to finish two entire books solely on dueling due to his strange connection with magic. Black simply read halfway through one book before shutting it and playing with her wand. She conjured tiny spheres that she levitated this way and that.

Harry closed the third book, letting his mind rest. He closed his eyes, letting Morgaine's memories flow through him again. He could remember dueling King Arthur, dueling foreign sorcerers. He remembered the spells that she had used, the way that she had dueled, the devastation that she had wrought. And he savored it all. He had information that spanned near decades, Morgaine witnessing all sorts of events unfold. Harry could see her fighting Mordred, a nephew of hers. She saw future Merlins being born and the same men dying.

When he opened his eyes, he found himself looking at Morgaine. She was standing there, in all her glory, her eyes obviously sparking with excitement.

"Hello," Harry said rather lamely.

"Hello to you to," Morgaine said. "I guess that you want to ask several questions."

Harry nodded, looking around him. It was as if Time had stopped, as if this were taking place in a separate dimension. A pocket dimension. But Harry dismissed the thought, his mind going to the wand he had made. "What was that? The trance, I mean?"

Morgaine seemed to sigh. "The Trance, the Trance, the Trance. Where do I begin?"

"Somewhere," Harry replied, getting used to her sudden appearance and growing comfortable with her presence.

She glared at him. "Well, I guess that I'll start with the Sight. The Sight, as I've said, is now rare in these days. Back then, there were, in your terms, different types of the Sight. There was the most commonly known form of the Sight, the ability to foresee the future without knowing what you were speaking of. The Unspeakables have this well documented. Seers with this form of the Sight would speak a prophecy and never know that they had done so. There are less common forms of the Sight such as your trance, where you create something exquisite, powerful, perhaps even otherworldly without any memory of doing so. You'd remember that I did the same with the scabbard for my brother and for my wand.

"Other forms of the Sight include a Trance in which you become an expert in a field of combat. This was often found in the Vikings. Many were suddenly able to defeat hundreds despite receiving lethal blows. This form altered the body in ways that no one has been able to determine. It's more commonly called going berserk. Another form includes the sudden ability to divine truths that no one has been able to see before, to see things that would help technological advances. This form of the Sight is unconscious, rather subtle. How the fuck people were able to determine such a form, who knows.

"But yes, you experienced a form of the Sight, though not the one that most would expect."

Harry nodded, absorbing this information. "But why did I experience the Trance?"

"Well," Morgaine started, "like you've assumed, it was probably me. My act of transferring some of my memories, as other are too horrifying, must've triggered something in you, a dormant and, of course, magical, attribute. Anything else you'd like to ask on 20 Questions?"

"What about the wand itself? Is there anything special about it?"

Morgaine snorted. "After seeing the new runes on the wand, the ice bolts, and the Trance involved, he is still bloody fucking unsure whether or not it's special? To my son's beard, such an ignorant twat." She then spoke loudly. "Of course, it isn't. It's a normal everyday wand that the lowest of the Hufflepuffs would use. It's _definitely_ not imbued with a unique form of magic and the runes definitely _don't_ give the wand special uses. What the hell do you think, Harry?"

Harry backed off. This was new.

"Sorry," Morgaine then said, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I'm just a bit volatile lately with the things going on in my realm. It's…chaotic, but there's nothing you can do about it."

All Harry did was nod silently.

"Do you have any other questions?" Morgaine asked again.

Harry said hesitantly, "Bellatrix. What happened with her?"

Morgaine was now sporting a small smile, pride evident in her face. "Well, that's a bit of something that I was able to do by twisting the arm of a rather…influential friend of mine. She's agreed only to do such a thing once. I'd say that it's for the better, giving you a better fighting chance against Riddle." She paced the room. "Would you prefer me to visit in your room, or somewhere else, to spice it up?"

Harry thought. "The Chambers this night."

Morgaine nodded. "See you tonight then," she said, snapping her fingers and vanishing in a column of fire, swirling towards the ceiling.

* * *

A/N: Well. That's a load of not only crap, in my opinion, but information. This chapter took a while to write and I'm somewhat rushed to write a chapter because God forbid I let this reach the three or four week mark. Hopefully this is up to everyone's standards. Sorry if it's not as good as previous chapters.

And so, I focus more on Harry's interactions with the teachers with his new memories. Black is in Flitwick's little dueling session/club and she's biased towards several people. She's, after all, a pureblood. I'm basically shouting it from the mountains.

I've finally decided to forget that the Half-Blood Prince and the Deathly Hallows exist. Explanations in later chapters.

I've also read the Magicians trilogy. Oh dear. Things are going to bleed from those stories as well, though in more HP-esque manners. Look for them in this chapter. For the lazy ones, there is the emphasis on the non-wand hand and the things that you can do with it, the weird intricacies with Flitwick's shield. You'll see more of this, I'm warning you. It's for the better or for the worse. Blame a random person on the internet for suggesting the series to me.

Review please. Thanks for reading!

 _ **Answers**_

 **Assume:** I'd say that you were the **Friendly** guy, but that's simply an assumption (pun _not_ intended). I found another person who sees magic in the same way! Magic is best left to speculation, something that shouldn't be governed by a set of rules. It's chaotic and orderly. And thanks for reading. You'll see more of the basilisk later, perhaps in year two (which is shouldn't take too long to get to, hopefully).

 **HeartsGlow:** Consider it AU as that's a reason for any discrepancies between canon and this. Thanks for telling me that. I'll keep it in mind.

 **1066wthec:** Thanks. I don't like updating monthly because that's too long. Fortnights (two weeks) seem better.

 **Friendly:** Here comes my lack of foresight. I'm treating it as this gag between Daphne and Harry. That's an opinion that shouldn't be taken seriously as now, I'm using it for amusing purposes. It shows that Harry, having grown in the Muggle world, doesn't like the fact that people are putting Muggles down because they're Muggles. He also likes annoying Daphne hence the statement of superior beings.

As for my opinion on the superiority of each being, I'd like to say that they're equal. But if I'm forced to choose between one and the other, the Muggles are superior. The only reason they've been forced to develop weapons of mass destruction is because they are far greater in numbers than the Magicals. The Magicals have no use as they can use magic to devastate their foes and/or they are far fewer than the Muggles. Additionally, Muggles are shown to outgrow prejudice faster than the Muggles. On a similar note, the Muggles evidently adapt faster than the Magicals. The Magicals are still in the Victorian era, Marriage contracts from fanfic, the use of owls, quills, parchment, etc. Muggles are using things that are infinitely faster and are still developing things faster. Muggles are more curious and are more determined to discover everything and see if they can augment themselves while in canon, it seems as if Magicals, most of them, aren't concerned about such things. Muggles have been able to develop intricate buildings _without_ magic while Magicals require Magic for the same buildings. Muggles have been forced to drag themselves until they come out up top. Magicals were already up top centuries ago and were/are content with being there, not getting better. That's why Muggles can kill Magicals faster than the other way around.

Tom Riddle didn't want to simply destroy. He wanted to conquer. That's why he didn't use something the equivalent to a nuclear bomb because such a weapon would bring attention to the Wizarding World while also making the place he wanted to be the leader of uninhabitable.

That's my take, my opinion. You can PM me if you want...And thank you for saying good things about my writing.

 **Ciarle:** I've PM'ed you. For those looking for the answer, it's in CH 10 under Smutley-Do-Wrong's paragraph.

 **Gime'SS:** You're welcome (no singing this time).

 **Minase 2928:** Thanks

 **k4m3j0** : Thanks. As I said, I've reused it so there were bound to be mistakes.

 **Epicweaver:** I completely agree about Bellatrix while my mind demands Susan to be in the scenes. I've tried to clean up my scenes, though there really doesn't seem like an improvement here. Thanks for mentioning that...I'll work on it.

 **hunzbookwyrm:** Thanks

* * *

We reached 100,000 views at 12:15 am on June 25, 2017. Thanks for those who've read this. The fact that people seem to actually like this story not only invokes a sense of pride, but a sense of warmth. An odd, undescriptive warmth, but it's there.

Why am I telling you this? Who knows...Hopefully I'll stop thinking about the gallows and pain.

Cheers

HHS


	19. It's Another Bloody Seizure plus Friends

A/N: I tried a bit more and I had to revise this chapter _way_ too many times. Just keep in note that Black is a catalyst for So. Many. Things. Why am I telling you this?

They had been at this for too long. The duel had started off nice and slow, Harry making the first move as he cast a Tickling Jinx followed by a Stunner. But Black had dodged those, making exaggerate rolls. It was unexpected, though not cripplingly so, when she cast spells mid-roll. Harry wasn't at a disadvantage though, the two of them casting their own charms to enhance their bodies. He found himself able to easily deal with Black's spells, using his wand instead of a shield to bat them away back at her. Perhaps it had to do with Morgaine, perhaps it was due to his connection with books.

The duel was in Harry's favor, what with the spells that he spat out doubling with the fact that he threw her spells back at her. Black slowly tired, the signs becoming more gradual. First it was the heavy breathing, then it was the slower reaction. And yet, despite all of this, Black had somehow managed to turn the tide as she stayed stationary, like Harry, and decided to riskily shift this way and that in order to conserve energy. She used all sorts of spells, spells that could be considered deadly, ones that pierced shields, ones that were typically used in pranks. The fact that she suddenly casted non-verbally made Harry create shields, causing him to abandon attempting to reflect her spells. That gave them an even footing, driving the two into a stalemate. Harry refused to give away his knowledge of arcane knowledge of spells that hadn't been casted in centuries, spells that he knew could have the ability to attract attention. Instead, he settled for the minor curses and hexes he had found while combing the Slytherin and Hogwarts Libraries.

He didn't bother to dodge as his shield was engineered in such a way that allowed him to cast as it stayed erect. It had taken a bit more power from Harry to create it, but the cost wasn't too much. As a result, he had currently decided to cast a slew of hexes followed by shield piercing spells which, in turn, were followed by spells intended for pranks and to incapacitate. He wanted to challenge his skills in using rather mundane dueling spells. Had he utilized all of Morgaine's skills and knowledge, then she'd have probably been beat in less than a minute.

And a spell managed to finally clip her, breaking his line of thought. It was a simple Leg-Locking jinx, but it was enough. Harry had let her get used to the combination of jinx then shield piercer for a while, and suddenly he had don the exact opposite. Seeing his opponent stumble and topple over, Harry fired off an Incarcerous, an Expelliarmus, and a Stupefy in quick succession in order to secure his victory. Flitwick clapped vigorously, Harry thought that it was done with additional enthusiasm because it was not only a surprising outcome what with Black's previous training, but the skill that Harry had shown.

Harry released Black, casting an _Ennervate_ , and handed her wand back. She took it grudgingly, another one of those glints in her eyes. The moment that Harry felt the wand leave his possession, he fell down, pain overriding his system. He lived through Morgaine's life, the joys and the horrors. It simply wasn't remembering, but he smelled everything, he could feel the fire that consumed her closest friends, heard the birds merrily chirping in the Isles of Avalon.

Scenes played out, lives were lived. And suddenly, he could feel himself aging by the centuries. His eyes, a vibrant Killing Curse green, felt dead. It was as if they were stones. They were too heavy. His mind was splitting and he could feel himself casting a Silencing charm on himself. He screamed silently. No one could hear him, no one could help him. It was only him and Pain itself, an ever-constant battle. He felt himself somehow…integrating, yes that's the only appropriate word, with Morgaine's memories. It was excruciating, somehow even more painful than Voldemort's, or Quirrelmort's (a name he somehow managed to come up with), Cruciatus. It felt as if his mind was being ripped apart over and over again, each nerve being set on fire. Fire seemed to burn inside him, burning each part of him.

He saw Flitwick and his friends standing over him, but he paid no attention. Knives seemed to dig themselves deep into his skin, hooks pulled his in all direction. Harry felt tears grace his face once again, his heart pounding. He felt a vial being held to his lips like the other night, and liquid flow down his throat. But, despite the fact that potions tend to work immediately, nothing happened. He could feel the skin being ripped off his body, things being shoved deep into his throat. He gagged and convulsed, bringing Daphne to tears (something she skillfully hid) and everyone else to serious concern and worry.

The Silencing Charm failed as Harry's magic was torn apart and rebuilt. Everyone's ears bled as they heard his screams. He screamed until his voice wore out, the sound echoing in the large room. He could feel everyone's magic, the individual signatures. They were strong, laden with the strength of Hogwarts. But Harry didn't dwell on that as the pain managed to somehow increase. Harry could feel holes being drilling into his skin, each bone in his body breaking, shredding his muscles. He could feel pain. It was pure, unadulterated pain that had the ability to pulverize a normal Wizard's mind, make them go insane. But Harry's mind still persisted. Through the pain it persevered, being tempered in the forge. His mind was reforming slowly. He could feel his magic being pieced together, becoming something different. Slowly, the pain subsided, his mind clearing. The screaming stopped, the tears multiplied.

It was as if something had cleansed Harry, dipping him into a pot to remove all the impurities. But what impurities were removed? Harry could feel anger, absolute and utter anger. He felt hatred, the desire to crush them. He could still feel his scars from each blow, from each scream, each stake that the Dursleys drove deep into his heart. What was different? Harry felt new…awakened, was that the word? He felt pain, a hollow sensation in his heart. It was something that was both new and old, an aged hole that had formed recently. He felt himself crying as the hollowness magnified, the pain and utter misery quickly became unbearable. Then it came, the overwhelmingly pleasurable sensation of unconsciousness. Everything was now…perfect.

Some time has passed

Harry softly groaned, feeling someone shove a potion down his throat, the pain immediately dissipating at a steady pace. Harry's body unclenched and he let out a breath that he hadn't realized he had been holding. Slowly, he opened his eyes, the soft light from the sun nearly blinding him. Blinking rapidly, he found Madam Pomfrey looking at him.

"My, my, Mr. Potter. So eager to be back?" she asked, smiling. "Do you know what happened?"

Harry nodded mutely.

"In that case, do you know why it happened?" Madam Pomfrey further asked.

Harry simply shook his head. A thought struck him. "What time is it?"

Pomfrey was apparently ready for that. How she knew, he didn't know. "It's 5:00 p.m."

I was out for about seven hours? Harry mentally asked. That was ludicrous. What exactly happened to him? Harry assessed his body and immediately got up, summoning his wand into his hand. He transfigured his hospital gown into more appropriate clothing for public. All that he had to manage was Pomfrey. He found himself casting the _Confundus_ charm on Pomfrey surprisingly enough, perhaps it was simply Morgaine's Legilimency Transfer. The odd thing was that Harry could have easily used his Voice, but he didn't want to do that as of right now. There was always a chance that the victim, due to being magical, could develop a resistance to his voice. The _Confundus_ worked perfectly, Harry somehow knowing how much magic to put into the spell so that it was rather guaranteed to work.

She reacted.as one hit with the charm would act. She was dazed, a bit out of it, open to suggestions whether it be through magic or otherwise. Harry was reminded by the Jedi mind powers he had seen once on the television when he had been working in the kitchen, Harry casting an _Obliviate_ in order to remove her memory of such an event occurring, knowing that the manner in which he cast the _Confundus_ would create false memories. Such memories could have been easily created using persuasion and things of that sort, but Harry didn't have the time. He had to get to Dumbledore.

Time lapse

Harry was standing in front of the Gargoyle of Dumbledore's office once again. His hands were trembling in trepidation, the source of which was undiscernible for Harry. He didn't know if it was because of the fact that action could be taken against Quirrelmort. The Gargoyle seemed to grudgingly slide away as Harry manipulated the magic within it. It's magic, when Harry paid attention, felt disgusting, repulsive. Now that he thought about it, he could feel the magic humming in the walls. How had he not noticed that before? But he was forced to leave that train of thought as he made his way up the constricting staircase. It was terrifyingly tight and small, making harry seem as if he couldn't breathe. What was this? He hadn't experienced such fear of small spaces. He had lived ten and a half fucking years in a cupboard the size of a broom closet. He should have been used to this?

Harry, doling out a bit of courage to quell this irrational fear, climbed the stairs rapidly. At the top of the stairs, he noticed that he heard two people speaking. It was Black and, of course, Dumbledore. They were talking about her journey through time when Harry knocked. That was also odd as well. It was either that Dumbledore either didn't notice him because he was busy or Harry was impervious to detection wards.

Anyways, the conversation stopped immediately as Dumbledore said, "Come in."

Harry complied, immediately seeing the various books that were strewn across the floor, a greedy glint appearing in his eyes before it was suppressed by the more logical and rational part of his brain. Dumbledore, if he noticed, said nothing. Apparently Dumbledore worked fast as the Headmaster had said only that morning that he'd be researching. And only what, seven hours later, there were nearly twenty to thirty books open. He saw headings talking about multiple dimensions, time travel, the dangers and effects of time travel, etc.

"Ah, Mister Potter. I thought that you were still recovering from, what I could gather, was a rather painful experience. How did you ever convince Madam Pomfrey to let you leave the Medical Wing despite the aforementioned experience?" Dumbledore asked, his eyes sparkling with a hint of concern seeping out. How did Harry know that the Headmaster was concerned about him?.

"Well," Harry said, instinctively using Occlumency to help him control any amount of emotion, allowing him to focus on looking sheepish, "I just jumped out of bed and persuaded her to let me go. After all, I have something to tell you about Him."

"Oh," was all that Dumbledore said before asking about what Harry was going to say in his rather grandfatherly tone. Harry looked at him confused, obviously hesitant at telling him in the presence of Bellatrix. Dumbledore seemed to sense this as he then said, "At this point, I believe that any information about him will be rather beneficial to Miss Black, Mister Potter. Considering the fact that she was the right hand of Voldemort, she might as well know because, if he caught wind of her true identity, then he would almost indefinitely attempt to recruit her once again."

"Who exactly are we talking about?" Black asked, evidently aggravated by the fact that she was not privy to Harry and Dumbledore's nouns and pronouns as well as her past. Harry assumed that she would have picked up a book and found out more about herself. Apparently, she didn't do such a thing.

Dumbledore sighed wearily. "We, I am afraid, are talking about Voldemort."

"But," Black indignantly said, "why are you talking about Voldemort as if he were alive when, if Harry was candid as he told the story, Voldy was dead? Unless…no." Her eyes widened comically as she came to the conclusion that Voldemort was still possibly alive. "Oh."

"Yeah," Harry said. "Oh." He turned to Dumbledore and then said, "I think I've found him."

"The key word there, my boy, is think," Dumbledore simply said, obviously not wanting to rush to things. Harry, at the same time, quelled the urge to flinch, closing his eyes. "Who do you think it is, Harry?"

Harry opened his eyes and simply said, "Quirrell."

Dumbledore was looking at him rather seriously. "Why in Merlin's name…" Harry internally laughed "…would you think that? From the things that I've seen, Quirinus may be terrified of the things that he may teach, and I've heard that his experience in Albania was less than pleasant, but he cannot be Voldemort in disguise." Black didn't react like the others as she didn't understand the fear, the true potential of the name.

"I have a friend, Susan Bones, who said that she saw two auras in the Professor." Harry simply said, hoping that this would be enough to get Dumbledore to investigate. He was partially correct.

"Well," Dumbledore started, "that does warrant a certain amount of suspicion. Do you know what she perceived the emotions of the auras to be?"

"All she said was that he was out to get me," Harry admitted.

"Then I might have Pomona talk to her." Dumbledore muttered after a moment of contemplating. To Harry, he then said, "You must be wary of any possible traps that Professor Quirrell may or may not have laid for you as I am certainly not omniscient." There was an odd stress on the last part of that sentence. "I shall have Professor Snape watch him."

Harry wasn't completely satisfied by that, but he'd accept it.

"And Miss Black," Dumbledore said, turning his attention towards the silent witch. "I strongly advise that you stay rather close to Mister Potter as I've heard that he can do things no ordinary first year can do."

Harry was worried. What did the Headmaster know?

The Wizard kept speaking. "I also advise you, Mister Potter, to tell your friends, especially Miss Greengrass in particular. She, perhaps, may offer more than I could give you. And to both of you, I shall tell you to be extremely careful because if Harry's suspicions are correct, which I dearly hope is not the case, then you are in extreme danger. I, as I said before, am unable to be everywhere at once."

What? Harry thought. How could Daphne best Dumbledore? He mentally shrugged. This was becoming a rather interesting meeting.

Dumbledore fell silent for a bit, Black and Harry glancing at each other. The Headmaster then said, "If you want, Harry, you could take several books from the bookshelves over there. Perhaps they will help you deal with Voldemort if I am unable to be there. But, I'd have to tell you that if you come across any spells that are rather…hazardous to the people around you, then I'd ask that you go to me before casting it."

Harry's eyes gleamed in anticipation, keeping the last bit of information in his mind. He walked over to the bookshelves as Black and Dumbledore continued their talk about their theories as to why she had jumped through time. Harry tuned them out, fascinated by the various books that were there. He found books with titles such as, A Greater Understanding of Magic and Our Understanding Behind Becoming an Animagi and Its Effects. There were other books entirely devoted to philosophical thoughts, dueling, theories, and all sorts of things that he didn't know existed. He took five books, obviously knowing that he'd be able to return and retrieve more books. Anyways, he still had a list of Parseltongue books to read as well give to Daphne. In addition to this, he still had to continue dominating the Hogwarts curriculum.

When he was about to leave, Dumbledore called his name. Once he was facing the Headmaster, the later then asked, "Do you remember what I said at the beginning of the year?"

Harry looked at him in confusion. "No…"

"Well, I had said do not go to the third-floor corridor for those seeking a painful death as well as the fact that the Forbidden Forest was off limits. I do hope that you don't go there," Dumbledore said, not even trying to veil his actual meaning.

Harry nodded. He'd check the place out later, perhaps bring his friends along to see if they could do something about the 'painful death' thing. It was worth investigating due to the fact that certainly, Dumbledore couldn't be keeping anything too dangerous in the third-floor corridor. Harry said his part, departing from the Headmaster's office and went to find his clique, the friends he had somehow made.

About twenty minutes later

He had found Hermione in the Library reading up on Potions. Evidently, she either had a few errors in the class or Snape had attacked her again. He was a fine teacher overall, but he did exert just a bit of prejudice and was a bit hostile. But that was understandable as the man was from Slytherin and was almost definitely raised with the varying prejudice. Just like how McGonagall tended, and rather obviously, immediately thought that the Slytherins had done something when, in fact, it was the Hufflepuffs.

Daphne and Tracey were in the Slytherin common rooms while Blaise was in their dorm, feeding his snake. The snake, on an interesting note, was a lot like Blaise, quiet and observant. Obviously, it was Blaise's familiar due to the fact that only Owls, toads, and Cats were allowed in Hogwarts.

Currently, they were in one of the many abandoned rooms within the castle. They were sitting comfortably in a circle n chairs that were somehow still in good condition.

They were currently waiting for Harry to say something as he still had his eyes closed. After a bit of time of simply sitting there in that classroom, feeling rather awkward, Daphne spoke up.

"Harry, what are we doing here? Are you trying to establish a telepathic connection with us? Because if you are. Oh wait." She held her head, a thoughtful expression on her face. "You were saying, let's see…nothing." She glanced at him, a smile hidden in her eyes.

Harry opened his eyes and promptly rolled them. Now he had to deal with two sarcastic girls who both worked overtime to make fun of him. "I'm still contemplating how to say what's on my mind, Daphne." He sighed and continued, saying, "Best to just say it, I guess. The first part is that we're here because I've essentially been told by Dumbledore to check out the third-floor corridor."

"Then," Daphne started, an eyebrow raised, "why aren't we in the third-floor corridor?"

"Because there's something else I have to talk about. It's Q-Quirrell." Harry briefly smiled.

The Slytherins snorted while Hermione then said, "Don't mock the Professor's disability. He's a good teacher, but he's just…scared."

Blaise nodded sagely at her words. "And having and showing a crippling fear of a one's own subject is a good thing to have when trying to teach to children young than you."

Hermione smacked his arm, causing him to yelp in surprise rather than pain. Tracey snorted at Blaise. Daphne said nothing, her eyes solely focused on Harry.

She spoke softly, asking, "That serious?"

Harry, despite being rather entertained, was slightly sweating, something in his eyes representing worry. He was fidgeting with his wand, gently and repeatedly hitting his hand with it. "Yeah."

The others quieted as they noticed this conversation between the two Slytherins. With their full attention on him, Harry then said, "There's something, someone, in the Professor that's ludicrously dangerous in Hogwarts."

The room was silent. They were all hanging onto each of his words. Where had he found this devotion? What possessed them to listen to him? Harry continued, saying, "He has reasons to kill me, and probably will not stop until he does so. If you get in the way, then he's probably going to kill you too."

"Couldn't Dumbledore send him to Azkaban or at least subdue the Professor?," Hermione butted in.

Harry could hear the collective sigh of the Slytherins in the room. It was either that she worshipped Dumbledore like a god or was rather naïve. "Neither are possible at the moment," Harry said. "If Dumbledore suddenly attacks a professor, it won't look good on him and he'd probably be sent to Azkaban instead. And he can't exactly send Quirrell to prison on a whim. He needs proper concrete evidence to properly imprison Quirrell."

"Oh," was all that Hermione said.

"He's not the magical god on Earth that you think he is, Hermione," Harry said, the Slytherins looking at him closely. Harry smirked. "I am."

Hermione then smacked Harry in the arm, causing him to groan in pain. Hermione huffed, saying rather loudly "Oh shut up!!"

Daphne finally smiled. "If you want him to do that, you'll have to do much more to persuade him otherwise. Perhaps he's interested in a certain boy whose name starts with an M and ends in toy…"

"No!" Harry shouted, shivers running up and down his spine. Hoping to distract everyone, he then said, "Let's go to the corridor."

"Perhaps," Daphne smirked, "you'll meet the love of your life on the way there."

Harry started towards the door. "Actually, I'm rather sure that I've already met that particular person. That person just happens to be you." Only Blaise could see his stupidly wide grin and his hand reach for his wand.

Harry managed to just hear Daphne splutter and a wand swish through the air before sidestepping to the left, pivoting. He managed to snap off an _Incarcerous_ before being forced to dodge a Jelly-Legs jinx. The others quickly moved out of the way as the others continued to duel. Making a quick decision after the duel managed to last a minute, Harry's face met a Slug-Vomiting jinx. He let the slugs come out for a few seconds, perhaps half a minute, before casting a Finite on himself. He smiled wickedly and banished the slugs at Daphne who was too ecstatic to block or dodge it.

The others laughed at the exchange and at Daphne's face. Harry was smiling as well, knowing full well that he'd pay for that. It'd probably be in a week or two before he'd be able to pay her back, though. He walked over, smiling, and shook her hand, the slug now on the floor.

"Truce?" Harry asked, managing to suppress the smirk. Everyone in the room held their breath.

"Truce." Daphne affirmed, a grin spreading across her face. The two then proceeded to clean themselves up.

After a minute, Harry then said, "Now, let's go to the corridor."

Everyone was nearly out the door when Blaise suddenly stopped and said, "Shouldn't we do this at night, to avoid getting caught?"

Everyone looked at him, Harry realizing the numerous things that could go wrong if someone managed to spot them. Harry then said, "Good point. So tonight?" He looked around, receiving the affirmation from everyone around.

"How are we going to get there?" Daphne asked, causing the others to ask the same thing.

Harry thought for a bit. It simply wouldn't do to slip out of dungeons nor would it be logical to slip out of the Ravenclaw tower because the Professors patrolled the areas. Perhaps…"The Chambers. There's a network of tunnels that run from the Chambers to the rest of the Castle. We should be able to reach the third floor corridor if we either use a Point Me, or if we slip out of the second floor and just climb the stairs. I'll see if I can manage to get to the Ravenclaw dorms, so just wait in the Common Room, Hermione."

Everyone else nodded and, with the purpose the meeting being fulfilled, they left. Blaise pulled Harry aside asking for the spells while Daphne and Tracey went ahead and spoke about all sorts of things.

Hermione left silently, her head down, thinking about the books she could jump into. After all, there were worlds to explore, things to learn. She'd show them. She would definitely show them, get them to see They'd finally see her, never underestimating her again.

A/N: I'm on vacation again. I've been struggling as to what I should write, but I've discovered, my reason to write is to see what my Harry can do in each year and what his enemies can do.

Why am I focusing on Daphne? One, she's the one who Harry's paired with. Second, Dumbledore knows. He _always_ knows.

I can't write much considering the fact that my parents insist that we are busy during the entirety of the vacation. It might set me back a week or two.

This was a filler chapter. Rather sorry about that. I'm trying to make things lighthearted for now. I'll inevitably make it more depressing and sad later. Enjoy it for now...

And for those who've noticed, after this day, I'll speed things up.

I'm slowly making my way through the HP series. GoF is interesting...gives me ideas for future years. That's the wonder of writing fanfiction while reading the series. You start to find things that you can exploit, one liners, small details, etc.

 **Please review**. I, naturally, ask you rip my story to shreds, mutilate it, gouge its eyes out. It'll keep going, although please keep the reviews constructive if you consider to do such things.

Answers are due. Here I am.

 **gabrieljuarezl:** Did you PM me about _that?_ Sorry, Merlin, I forgot. I'm forgetful, obviously.

 **Gime'SS:** Thanks, once again.

 **Guest** : Thanks for reading it at least. Now that reminds me, I'll have to revise that horrid chapter (I've never liked it anyways)...

Cheers

HHS


	20. High on Emotions and Trudging in Pipes

A/N: Hey, it's nearly 6,000 words. This was an extremely long and annoying chapter...which is saying something.

* * *

Harry was staring at the ceiling of his dorms. He found his eyes slipping in and out of focus as he kept thinking, and he was noticeably different. He felt scars that he simply _knew_ hadn't existed the day before. He felt as if his mind had been aged by decades, perhaps centuries. At the same time, he felt like he knew more, as if his body had been specifically attuned to the things he knew. He felt different, a certainly acted rather different from the day before. It was an abnormal and subtle change for him, so subtle that he couldn't discern what was actually different. Perhaps it was the way he casted spells, interacted with magic, or moved. He _felt_ more graceful, purer.

In the past twenty minutes, he had been able to flawlessly transfigure and animate normal everyday objects into a diverse assortment of creatures, both normal and magical alike, doing things with an ease that would only have been there had he practiced for days or weeks on end. It was a rather odd and illogical thing, but then again, it was _magic_ so anything could happen. On a similar, unrelated note, this was one of the more obvious changes to him.

The closest that one could come to understanding the difference between his spell-casting before and after would be understanding how different knowing is than understanding. A person would know how to perform a spell, take the Levitation Charm for instance. But Harry could explain the inner workings of the spell; he _felt_ the spell and made it an extension of himself instead of using a tool. He understood how it worked and used it intimately with the spell, working with his magic to perform the spell instead of forcing his magic to accomplish the same task.

But this provided several concerns for Harry in terms of being the Merlin, the person who was supposed to take act as the King's counselor and wizard. With apparent the lack of a King, the Merlin's duties effectively extended to keeping Magical Britain safe in terms of internal and external threats. This was due to the fact that Kings were, as most people know, to protect their kingdom. Merlins acted as a strategic advisor for the King and for Britain. The latter was shown in the way that Morgaine's father, the Merlin, had 'influenced' several actions in order to help better the future of Britain. His actions had been able to prevent the Saxons from taking over.

With this form of integration with his magic, Harry was worried that he'd have to stick his toe into a strong current of politics and intricate speaking that he _certainly_ didn't have a head for. Perhaps tonight, Morgaine would give him a few answers. Perhaps…

Momentarily putting his thoughts about his current changes aside, Harry started rummaging around his bag, making sure that everything was in working order. It was a daily practice of his, that is only if he isn't being tortured, having a breakdown, learning or experiencing a world-changing event, and when he's not passing out due to pain.

He made sure that his potions were filled, his ink wasn't spilling, and the bezoar weren't crushed. He checked if his quills were still clean and whether or not his books, books from all three libraries, were still mint condition. When going through his books, he found a slip of paper, not parchment, behind one book. It was the note from earlier, just before his dueling session.

He turned it over and broke the red seal, which was rather odd due to the fact that this was supposedly from a wizard or witch. Only magical practitioners and the Muggle parents of magical practitioners had the ability to send post.

With the seal broken, Harry looked at rather normal handwriting as if it had been written using a pen. How odd. Harry had the feeling that he should do this in private. Looking around his dorm and seeing no one other than himself in the room, Harry drew his curtains to his bed, cast several privacy spells and started reading.

 _Mister Potter,_

 _I have been informed, as you likely have been as well, by the goblins from Gringotts that you are one of my very few relatives. There's not much that I am currently able to write about considering the fact that apart from your reputation, I know nothing of you. If you would like to, then we, perhaps, could arrange a meeting during one of your bake, if possible. I have heard of your current situation, and, if possible, could provide you with the things that you might need. And hopefully, before you go off and do the things that you'll do, word of caution. Be discreet._

The note ended there, causing Harry to wonder if he knew of the Stone and his plans to get into the corridor. But that raised the question, how did Flamel know of Harry's plans? Dumbledore, perhaps…It seemed like the only logical conclusion due to the fact that Dumbledore was aged and seemed to be naturally curious, so perhaps he might have met the famed alchemist.

Folding the note and placing both it and the parchment in a book, he slipped into the common room where he found Black simply staring at the others, something racing in her mind. Waving at her, he left the common room, heading towards the entrance to the Chambers. He needed to switch some of his books.

As he continued down the hall, he felt, rather than heard, someone following him. He decided to stop, leaning against the wall and trying his best to make himself look far older than he was. It was rather easy, considering that there was not only such a thing as magic, but he harbored Morgaine's memories. And it should be noted that many of them are far too grisly for an eleven-year-old to have.

He could remember their screams as they burned, the Muggles cheering. Oh, how he had _hated_ them at that moment in time as their shouts of joy overpowered the screams of the child. They had hunted Magicals down as if they were animals, cornering the Magicals and playing with them. They'd make them scream in pain as skin was shredded, as Magical bodies became someone else's, children being raped. If Harry only could have done something to _those_ Muggles, they would be the ones screaming and begging, the ones who dug their hands into the ground desperately.

She had felt their pain, the ones who she had seen killed due to fear and prejudice. Harry had seen them sob as they were hoisted in the air, their bodies inching along the stake, a disgusting slurping sound emanating from the living corpses. Both Harry and Morgaine had wanted to crush them, make them pay for their utter unadulterated glee. It was the least that they could do, after all. But _of course,_ Morgaine just had to stick to her morals, Harry had let the anger slowly down and the pain set in. The grief had consumed him, her for all those years, but now, Harry was fine. They wouldn't harm his people any more as long as the Statue of Secrecy wasn't broken.

Harry looked down the side of the hall he had just come down, knowing that the entrance to the Chambers was just a few meters down the hall. It was now rather odd to Harry that he had decided to simply stop and lean against the hallway wall, but it had seemed natural at the time. Not wanting to show the other person, a girl from her gait and the silhouette, that he felt a bit awkward, he waited there for her to catch up, remembering Morgaine's early childhood.

He hadn't gotten far when he heard his name being called. It was Black essentially shouting his name down a stone hallway, the sound bouncing off of the walls.

"What do you want?" Harry directly asked as he got off the wall and turned towards her, not wanting to waste any of his time.

Black rolled her eyes. "Can't I just be with the famous _Boy-Who-Lived?_ "

"No, no you can't," Harry said, feeling rather straightforward. "Why are you here?"

Black's tone quickly changed from playful to downright serious. "Are you going through with what Dumbledore said?"

"Yes," Harry drawled, "why are you interested?"

"It's because I overheard Snape talking to Quirrell," Black then said. "They were talking about getting a Philosopher's Stone from a trapdoor. Could they be talking about the corridor?"

This was very convenient. Very, very convenient. Was it almost too convenient? Harry dismissed the thought and simply nodded, acknowledging the fact that there was such a thing as the Philosopher's Stone. He had heard something of the sort before, a Stone that supposedly was able to make someone live forever. It was in an Alchemy book, something he had picked up and read only for a fleeting moment. After all, Alchemy was an entire branch of magic that Harry had realized was far too advanced for him to perform. Although now, Morgaine _did_ have a bit of experience in the subject what with her need of certain materials, materials that weren't easily found, as well as the need to make some quick money. So perhaps, he'd be able to properly

Brushing the thought aside, Harry tried to think of the implications that there was such a thing as the Philosopher's Stone. He had originally dismissed it as a myth that had persisted when he had read about it, but if Voldemort was interested in such a thing, then there was a rather serious need to go and retrieve it. The Wizard would have the ability to live forever due to the fact that there was apparently such a valuable relic in the depths of Hogwarts. They would definitely have to go to the corridor tonight.

"When are you going?" Black asked, obviously realizing from his prolonged silence that he knew what a Philosopher's Stone was. "And what is it?"

"I'm bringing the people from the Dueling club, class, whatever, tonight after curfew. If you're interested, you could come, just meet me in the common room. And the Stone could easily fuck us all up if Quirrell were able to get his hands on it," Harry responded, not wanting to tell her of the Stone, evidently afraid that she would attempt to take it for herself. No man or Wizard should have the possession of such an artifact.

"The mudblood bint is coming with us?" Black asked, surprising Harry. This was unexpected as Black hadn't shown any apprehension whatsoever during second period where she interacted with Hermione for just a few minutes. It was, after all, a few minutes, but still. "What the fuck is a mudblood going to do? Scream and shout?"

 _God,_ Harry thought. _Curse the pureblood propaganda_. At the same time, he then said, "Shut up, Black, and spew those pureblood beliefs somewhere else. You aren't going to insult a friend, my friend, in front of me. She's a perfectly fine Witch who could probably beat most of the kids in first year."

"But have you seen that?" Black asked heatedly, an odd, vulnerable edge to her voice. "Do you know what she is? What her kind has done? Why the fucking hell are you consorting with the enemy?"

Harry was confused. Consorting with the enemy? This was the standard pureblood drivel, but he could feel a slight tinge of emotion behind her words. He looked at her closely. Despite her seemingly normal appearance, there was something that gave Harry cause for concern. "What?"

Black continued on, ignoring him completely. "For fucks sake, her kind deserves to be put down for what they've done. The disgusting little pieces of shit deserve to be culled like the fucking animals they are!"

Harry quickly erected Silencing charms which, upon a moment of reflect, were his best friends. She continued her rant, tears suddenly flowing down her eyes. "Do you want them to steal this? To steal your _fucking_ friends and family? To leave you, buried six feet deep in their own shit as they then step over your corpse? Because that's what they're gonna do! They are fucking ANIMALS!"

She gasped as if she were drowning and leaned against the wall, quickly slowing sliding down so that her knees were against her chest. She wrapped her arms around her knees, rocking back and forth, obviously detached from sanity. Harry cast a repelling charm and obscuring wards.

Sobs wracked her body, her eyes burned with pain and anger, perhaps a bit of hatred mixed it. Tears steadily flowed down her cheeks, screams coming from the depths of her soul. She cried rivers of tears, her robes soaked. Harry sat down next to her, obviously standing by for anything she might need. He hadn't expected this from her, not from Bellatrix Black who had seemed like an emotionally steadfast Witch.

All Harry did was sit there right next to her, comforting her. He could only think of Voldemort's memory, the one from Diagon Alley. He could remember her words, comparing the Muggleborn to animals. She had done that just a few seconds ago, making Harry worry about the danger of having two psychotic serial killers on the loose.

Black, through her sobs, managed to force out sentences, talking about her mother being…what? Her mother was apparently raped by Muggleborns, and she had to live with the crumbling Witch throughout her life. Her mother, after the apparent incident, slowly went insane. The mind healers couldn't do anything. The Muggleborns were thorough and disgustingly eager, forcing her to do things that simply caused her mind to snap. She, as time progressed, became little more than a vegetable. Bellatrix was nine when her mother was essentially killed due to mercy.

Morgana's sake, her life had been fucked up by Muggleborn and those served as a foundation for the hatred that she held for them, the pure and potent desire for their destruction, or, at the very least, their slavery.

Harry could literally feel the contempt she held for them, a cyclone of magic swirling around her, wrapping her in its protective layers. Her magic was unrestricted, potent. Her grief and pain acting as fuel to the fire, making Harry nervous. And suddenly, her sobs stopped, the fire was put out.

She pushed Harry's arm off, standing up as she then muttered charms.

 _What?_ Harry mentally asked, amazed at the control she seemed to have over emotions. No normal second year should have such control over their emotions. It simply wasn't possible for Harry who had, by others standards, extraordinary emotional control what with his current "living" arrangements with the Dursleys.

Harry, still on the floor, looked at her in wonder, still shocked by the fact that she had been able to essentially go from crying her eyes out to a normal everyday demeanor.

"What?" Bellatrix asked, looking at him. "We have dinner in what, five minutes? Let's go and I won't let you sit around there doing nothing."

"Well," Harry responded, surprised when he heard his mild hostile tone, "I was going to do something rather personal before you came here."

Bellatrix laughed, her eyes sparkling, a stark contrast from several minutes ago. "What were you going to do, Potter? Jerk off?"

Harry looked at her amused. "Yes, actually. You know, I rather like the risk."

Bellatrix coughed, a look of disgust coming over her face before she then glared at him. "You disgusting—Wait a second…you're pulling my leg, aren't you?"

"No, I'm not," Harry managed to say with a straight face, looking her directly in the eyes. "I seriously was. I had a stash of…things in my bag. Wanna see?"

Black shuddered, obviously believing him. "Merlin, no! Keep it to yourself!"

Harry snorted, letting his composure drop before letting a burst of laughter escape him. "I can't believe you actually fell for that!"

"Your parents would be _so_ proud of you, telling people that you're jacking off," Bellatrix then said, causing Harry's laughter to stop and giving him reason to look at her.

"Don't," Harry then said after a moment of silence, glaring at her as they walked down the hall, "talk about my parents."

"Why?" An expression of confusion on Black's face. "Oh."

"Yeah, 'oh.'" Harry responded, an edge to his voice, managing to keep his feelings from spilling over. "D'you want me to do the same to you?"

Black snorted, surprising Harry. "You just did, Potter." She then cut him off, saying, "Let's go to dinner, then to the corridor."

Harry stayed at her side, dispelling his charms and wards from a distance.

 **Twenty minutes after Dinner**

Harry found himself sitting in front of the fireplace in the Slytherin common room. He was cross legged on the floor, his friends either working on the homework that Harry, thankfully, hadn't received or making preparations for tonight.

Harry stared into the fire, mesmerized by the nature of the flames. They pirouetted like agile ballerinas, twisting this way and that like the dancers Harry, no, Morgaine, had seen in the inns back then. Heat radiated from their bodies, drawing men and women alike into their grasp; the fire would then snap at them, silently punishing them for getting too close.

Fire was a tool that, without caution, would turn on its master, much like a human. It was hungry, gluttonous, and _angry_. It was the embodiment of destruction, burning all that it touched, and like destruction (which is rather contrary to popular belief), it could be used for all sorts of things.

Harry closed his eyes, his mind roamed Morgaine's memories for a moment or two when his train of thought came to a screeching halt. He had _five_ people coming along with him to the corridor. Did he rely on them so much? Why did he want to bring them along? Certainly, he could do all of this by himself…but doing it by himself felt odd, felt rather unnatural.

Why did loneliness feel like a foreign subject? He had grown up solitary, he had been forced to entertain himself as his 'relatives' supposedly took care of him. Illogically, he felt ashamed that he had to rely on others. Was he weak? Was he not good enough?

He felt slivers of doubt creep into his mind, taking root and anchoring his mind to the bottom of an ocean of despair. What would his parents say? One was resourceful, if the rumors of his father's antics were true, and his mother was intelligent, clever as some would say. What would they do, seeing their child in Slytherin, lying to teachers, directly disobeying set rules, wanting to kill people?

And God, he could feel the world bearing down on him, threatening to crush him. He had to take care of things that were far too complicated and dangerous for an eleven-year-old.

 _Merlin,_ Harry thought, _what's wrong with me? What did I do to deserve all of this? Can't I just be normal for once?_

Sitting in the center of the common room, Harry felt tears threaten to flow down his face. His emotions swirled around, a dangerous storm forming in his mind. Thoughts of longing and hatred sloshed violently within his mind, begging him to let them spill over.

The air felt hot, the ambient noise of the room became far too loud for him. Harry could hear his breathing increase dramatically, his heart desperately pounding away as he started crumbling. Harry hurriedly slung his bag over his shoulder and ran out of the common room, running aimlessly. He had said that he had exceptional control over his emotions for an eleven-year-old. Bullshit.

 **More minutes pass**

Harry found himself just managing to keep himself composed. He was standing at the entrance of a low-ceilinged, sweet smelling, aesthetically warm common room, How he had managed to bypass the 'security' measures he didn't know nor did he care. Plants strategically littered the room while lamps provided most of the light as the sun faded from view, the moon just visible in the massive windows. It was rustic with the massive use of varying types of wood while posters were hung around the room holding encouraging messages that no one probably paid attention to.

Harry stepped inside and stood against the wall, taking the entire scene in. It was rather interesting and a rather heartwarming scene for him. He looked around and simply watched people dressed in black robes embroidered with a reflective yellow thread.

Harry stood there, watching a Hufflepuff talk with plants and others scribble furiously. It was rather intriguing, their Head of House going them an edge in a core subject at Hogwarts. Why was he here?

His thoughts were interrupted when someone bumped into him. It was Susan. He smiled as she sat down at a table, obviously inviting him to sit with her.

"So," Susan drawled, "what're you doing here, when it's nearly curfew?"

"I-I just wanted to see your common room," Harry managed to spit out, failing to keep his voice steady and devoid of emotion.

Susan looked at him. "And that's all you wanted to do? You just curious and don't want to talk about anything?"

Harry nodded, momentarily closing his eyes before making a decision. "Could we…."

She kept her gaze focused on him, eyes brimming with some odd emotion. "Talk?' she finished for him. "Yeah, we just need to, you know, keep it brief. It's nearly curfew after all. Follow me."

Harry obeyed, finding himself in a small sectioned off room. There was a table with two chairs in the center, a bookcase to the side, and a painting hanging on the wall.

"What are we doing here?" Harry asked.

Susan sat down, inviting him to do the same. "What you came here to do, talk. And on that note, what do you want to talk about?"

Harry rubbed his face and there, the tears busted the gates open. He sobbed, causing her to pull up her chair next to him and wrap her arms around him. This, Harry noticed with his mind calm despite the tears and sobs escaping him, was a strange reversal of roles. Typically, he'd be the one doing this. Hell, he was the one doing this to Black only an hour ago.

Keeping the constraint of time in mind, Harry managed to cut back his sobs and dry his tears after a few minutes.

"What's wrong?" Susan's voice was laced with concern as she looked at him, dropping her arms.

Harry gave out a short burst of laughter. "Everything! Everything is fucking wrong with me, Susan. The world just wants to crush me." He sobbed again, his face crumpling up as tears fell against his will. "It's only two or three bloody months into this accursed school year and I'm going insane."

He shook back and forth as Susan shushed him, offering as support as she could. She then said, "Well, go ahead, speak your mind. I'm not gonna bite, and, after all, it seems that you need to…well, speak."

Harry looked at her after a minute, softly sniffing as his sobs died down, tears soaking his robes. "This is between us, right?"

Susan nodded.

"Gods, I don't know where to start. There's a madman on the loose who wants to kill me, my mind screams and shouts at me, my guardians hate me, and I'm alone." Harry slowly took breaths, knowing that there were fissures in his mental walls, that he was dangerous right now. His body buzzed with anger. His anger seeped out of his pore, his magic quickly becoming unable to be restrained, acting on its own accord. It filled the room, suffocating the only other person in the room, causing Susan to gasp suddenly, evidently surprised by the sudden influx in the sheer, and rather raw, magical power that was released without any form of warning.

Harry pushed her back and looked at her in concern.

"I'm okay," she said as she looked back at him. They simply sat there, next to each other, looking into each other's eyes. Normally, this would be an uncomfortable situation in which Harry'd feel rather stuffy. But now, it felt natural, a form of healing and therapy for him, staring into her eyes and seeing the care and sympathy she felt for him. He then looked away, something being triggered in him, as if rejecting such an intimate interaction.

Odd, very odd. It seemed like a blink of an eye, but when Harry, rather awkwardly, checked the time, it was only about ten minutes till 10:00.

Susan then said softly, "I hope you feel better." Harry nodded. "Good, then. You have just ten minutes till curfew and it's a rather long way to the dungeons. If you need to, then you know where to find me."

Harry said his goodbyes as she passed him and ran, at an inhuman speed, out of the Hufflepuff common room. Harry had to get some more books.

 **A Break from all the Touchy, Emotional and Horrid Stuff**

Nearly an hour and a half later, Harry was sitting in front of the Basilisk, gazing into its mesmerizing yellow eyes. Harry decided, after exchanging some more books from the Library in the Chambers (he was learning some of the more advanced curses and charms), that he should speak with the supposed.

' _And so,_ ' Harry then said in Parseltongue, ' _Slytherin installed you as the final defense for this castle?'_

The Basilisk nodded, its scales catching an infinitesimal amount of light and seeming to magnify it. _'Yes, Heir. Rowena had a bit of trouble accepting my placement considering the fact that she couldn't truly control me, but seemed to decide that I was a rather efficient and merciful killer. She was the only one other than the Great Slytherin who knew of my existence.'_

' _Do you know why that was?'_ Harry asked curiously. Perhaps Gryffindor put up a fight if he had known about the Basilisk, who Slytherin had apparently named Sicarius. Hufflepuff would've likely attempted to persuade Slytherin to choose a different line of defense for Hogwarts. But perhaps, the Basilisk, Sicarius, knew for certain.

' _Slytherin didn't want to deal with either Gryffindor nor Hufflepuff. From what my Fathers before me had seen, he seemed to determine to keep many things secret.'_ Harry was right, it seemed.

A thought then struck the Wizard. _'Are there any secrets that you could show me tomorrow night?'_

The Basilisk seemed to contemplate this for a bit before nodding. ' _Yes, Harry Potter. Are we done speaking for tonight?'_ The Basilisk turned into a rather scaly and large coil, his head resting on its body. He looked at Harry, silently asking the Wizard to let him rest.

Harry cast a _Tempus._ He nodded.

' _See you tomorrow, Sicarius,'_ Harry said.

' _Good night, Harry Potter.'_

Harry then repeated the words of Voldemort, his thoughts aimed towards tonight. They should be in the common rooms.

He cast a Point-Me and followed his wand all the way to the Ravenclaw Common Room.

Exiting the pipes, Harry let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. Thank Slytherin for building this series of pipes throughout Hogwarts. For a second, Harry had thought that he'd have to climb several floors, just narrowly missing the patrols. But instead, he was given a free pass.

Harry found himself standing to the side of the common room, Hermione being the only one left in the room reading.

He cleared his throat, causing Hermione to gasp and fumble for her wand. She relaxed as she saw it was only Harry before whispering, "Don't do that to me, Harry! You know how I am at night."

Harry gave her an embarrassed smile. "Sorry about that, Hermione. What're you reading anyways?" He added after a moment.

She raised the book and showed him the spine as he walked over. " _Hogwarts: A History,"_ She said, "again."

"How many times has it been? A hundred?" Harry asked good-naturedly.

"Five times," Hermione answered, "but who's counting?"

"Definitely neither of us…" Harry said. "Ready?"

Hermione then oddly asked him, "Are you sure about this?"

All Harry did was nod his head.

"Then let's go, Harry." Hermione then said, causing the Wizard to start moving towards the entrance to the pipes.

They left, Hermione following Harry through the pipes, asking the expected questions. Could she go to the Library at some point later? How long had he spent in there, exploring? Could everyone open it?

Harry, oddly enough, kept his ability to speak Parseltongue to himself. He avoided questions that addressed it, often changing the subject, ranting about a similar subject, etc. He, in short, did everything that he could to guard his secret.

They finally reached the tunnel that led to the sign, Harry just managing to keep Hermione away from the books in the library. Harry, remembered to key Hermione into whatever wards or charms discreetly, speaking under his breath. They walked down the hall and stood in front of the Slytherin Entrance. Harry had an odd thought. Could he open the door by simply speaking in Parseltongue? Discreetly, he cast a modified amplification charm, engineered in such a way that he was able to speak the word 'open' in Parseltongue and she heard it as a string of syllables instead of hissing. As a result, he, after dispelling the charm, was able to lie to her, saying that he wanted to try something out.

He guided her down to the common room where he found the rest of his friends. He glanced immediately at Black who glared at Hermione before she stood up and walked over like the others.

Daphne approached him as Hermione struck up a brief conversation with Tracey, talking about something that Harry didn't pay attention to. Daphne then said softly, "What is Black doing here?"

Harry looked at Black then at Daphne. "She has…an interesting situation that I intend to help her with. She's just fulfilling her end of the bargain and I'll fulfill my end."

Daphne simply nodded, saying, "Just curious. You know, I rather like her. And you _do_ know that she looks as if she'd murder Hermione, right?"

Harry snorted, drawing the other's attention. He motioned for them to pay no attention. To Daphne, he then answered, "Sure. I'll keep her in my sights throughout the night. I hope that I won't have to restrain her from smothering Hermione to death…"

Daphne let out a short burst of laughter, drawing the attention of the others to them again. Black stared at Harry rather than Daphne, as if she knew that they were talking about her. Daphne waved them off.

Harry then said, "Let's go," and off they went, out of the common room and down to the sign.

"So," Blaise said as they were nearing the sign, "what do you think's in the corridor?"

Harry simply shrugged as the sign came into view. "I don't know. A creature or trap of sorts, I'm sure of that. After all, he did say, 'imminent death,' or something along those-"

"Wait," Hermione interrupted, stopping which caused everyone around her to stop and and look at her. "Imminent death? Dumbledore said that?"

Harry could hear Black muttering, "For Merlin's sake, can't she just accept it and move on?"

Harry said, "Hermione, Dumbledore told us to go to the corridor by explicitly reminding me about the warning. Do you think that he'd _actually_ want us to die? It'll probably just be a challenge or two. The warning's a deterrent."

Hermione simply nodded. Harry then said, "Then let's go."

They quickly approached the sign, Black, Blaise, and Tracey suddenly having alibis, confusing Hermione. Harry and Daphne moved to grab their arms.

"But I thought that they wanted to come," she said, looking at Daphne and Harry in confusion. "What's happened?"

Daphne rolled her eyes as Harry muttered the Parseltongue phrases under his breath. The three affected Slytherins stopped trying their damned hardest to get away, causing them to look at Harry in confusion.

Harry softly sighed. "Just…accept it at face value. We have to get to the corridor as fast as we can."

Everyone else, except Black, looked at him in confusion. Black simply nodded.

 **Later…**

They were standing right there, in front of a massive door. The Founders seemed to be rather fond of massive doors in archways. They only had to climb one floor to get here considering that they had come out of the girl's bathrooms on the second floor which had raised a few questions that Harry deflected.

"Ready?" Harry asked. The others nodded, giving Harry reason to open the door rather cautiously as he wanted to be rather careful. Look then approach was the key rule to this situation. Harry and the others looked inside to see a hulking figure in the moonlight. The creature had three heads and it seemed to look like a…dog?

"A Cerberus!" Tracey exclaimed, causing Blaise to clamp his hand over her mouth. It was asleep for now, but it was certainly possible that they could easily wake it by being loud enough. They all creeped inside, Harry casting a Silencing charm on their feet.

"What're we going to do with a dog from Hell?" Harry asked Tracey specifically and rather quietly, casting his gaze at her.

She then responded softly, "Music. Music permanently puts it to sleep as long as it keeps on playing."

Black suddenly started singing softly, something that sounded oddly like a nursery rhyme. Daphne joined in, obviously by reflex before stopping. The latter had a sweet, soft voice while the former had a strong, vibrant, invigorating voice. The Cerberus' snores echoed throughout the stone room.

Harry saw something in front of its legs. It was a small ivory harp of sorts. That was rather odd. Who could have been… _oh no,_ Harry thought. They had to hurry a Quirrel/Voldemort had probably attempted to get through and had done so with success.

He then noticed something else. It looked a lot like a small trapdoor between the Cerberus' legs. Could the Stone be held there? He moved towards the trap door, haphazardly stepping in the gaps of the creature's legs. He motioned for the others to follow him as he opened the trapdoor. They complied and they, one by one, entered the creaky trapdoor.

Harry was the second to last to enter, followed by Black who maintained the song until she fell into the inky darkness.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading that. I actually had the idea of fit the entirety of the puzzles and all that sort in this chapter. But obviously, _everything_ wasn't included.

I also attempted to inject some lore in here. I'm not sure whether or not I failed with that one.

Thanks for reading once again. I'm not that talkative tonight. **Review please.** Do whatever you please, just be constructive...Or don't be. That's your choice. Oh and before I forget: Tell me if there's anything that's off about this chapter in terms of writing or grammar...or flow, if there's duplicate chapters. I edited the hell I could out of this...

And sorry if I rushed several things a bit...It's just life and I want the pacing to be faster. Although, in hindsight, that's not a really good idea...oh well.

 **Gime'SS:** Yer welcome, kind sir.


	21. Foiled Tortuous Promises

HadrmakeA/N: The joys of having a cooperative mind and muse (or are those the same thing? Shoot...)

* * *

Something had wrapped its arms around his chest, squeezing the air out of his lungs. Harry scrambled for his wand and managed to illuminate the area. He saw the others scrambling for their wands as well and lighting the area, causing the tendrils to seize up and freeze. It was absolutely disgusting, slime covering brown and black tendrils that seemed to be in the numbers of hundreds, if not thousands. Harry heard some yelps coming from Tracey and Hermione as he examined the thing that had them in its grasp.

He caught the word, "Snare," from Black. She knew it as well. They were caught in the Devil's Snare, a rather repulsive plant that shouldn't have been in the castle no matter how large nor old it was. These plants didn't grow in castles nor any enclosed area unless it had been planted by a Wizard or Witch. The Snare tended to grow in swamps or in jungles, moist, humid places with lots of small animals and water. It had the tendency to cause one to asphyxiate as it wrapped its tendrils around you, imbued with magical properties that allowed it to digest its ensnared victims over the course of hours. The only recorded deaths were Muggles as their Magical counterparts had the luxury to conjure whatever they'd need to get out of its grasp. From the recorded accounts, these deaths were excruciating, somehow recorded to feel a lot like burning.

He heard Tracey say, "Harry, what's this?"

He looked at her. Her eyebrows were knit together in worry, her mouth in a frown, and her brown hair all over the place. It was nearly as crazy as Hermione's. Nearly. Quickly, Harry said, "The Devil's Snare, and it's something that we can get out of. We just need a bit of… _fire._ " Harry nonverbally conjured flames, scorching the plant and causing the tendrils to retreat rapidly. Everyone dropped to the floor of a cylindrical room.

They brushed themselves off and cleaned themselves up, but not before Harry said, "It seems like there are a lot of devilish things in here what with the Devil's Snare and the Cerberus." He then mentally winced as he realized that he was essentially quoting the Dursleys. How disgusting.

Daphne and Hermione emitted several snorts as they processed that joke while Black simply told Harry to shut up.

Harry then walked over to the final Witch mentioned and muttered, "Voldemort is trying to get the Stone."

Her eyes widened as she heard that, grabbing him without warning by the robes and shoved him towards the door. "Then go, Potter. Let's urry up, or else we're dead!" Black commanded Harry.

Not wanting to properly confront an angry Black, armed with Morgaine's memories or not, Harry rushed across a massive hallway and headed towards a massive hulking oak door. It was locked. Of course, he was a wizard and he wasn't going to forget that anytime soon, casting an _Alohomora_ and flung the door open. He quickly walked into a massive chamber, a row of stone pillars on each side, not connected to any wall but instead the ceiling. He checked the door and cast the same charm as he couldn't open the door. He frowned as he felt the charm fail. Reaching out and 'feeling' the door, he saw several complex charms that he _could_ dispel, but that'd take too long. He looked around the room, Black leading the rest of the group.

Then something caught his eye. It was up there, near the ceiling and between two of the pillars closest to him. It was a flock of silver…keys? That was a particularly odd thing for Harry, but then again, it _was_ the Wizarding World, so anything goes. Not caring about magical finesse right now, he cast a Summoning Charm and over powered it in such a way that the magic should be able to fight against any minor form of resistance like those wings on the key itself.

Harry caught a rather massive ornate key. It was a show of master craftsmanship, the metal, presumably silver or iron, twisting this way and that. It also was ludicrously heavy for a key. Hefting the key into the lock, Harry used both hands to turn the key which caused the door to swing open. In Harry looked only to find himself looking at the back of hulking black, glossy figures. He entered through the doorway, the others muttering amongst themselves as they followed him.

When everyone was in, the door swung shut and the sound of a key being removed could be heard.

"Well," Harry said, addressing the group for once in the span of five minutes, "seems like we're trapped. I guess that we have to…what? Play across?"

And of course, Daphne spoke up. "No, Harry, we have to fly across. What do you think?" Several moments later, she then said, "Considering the fact that there are _spaces_ between the chess pieces, couldn't we just slip right across?"

As if expecting those words, the King stepped off of the board and started speaking in a raspy, grainy voice. It seemed as if someone were clawing a chalkboard. It said with nonhuman fluidity, "No, Masters and Mistresses. You will have to play across. There is no possible way. If you try to skip this part, the door across will not open."

"Fucking great," Black muttered, just audible. In louder tones, "Get a move on, Potter. You're the one who arranged this entire 'investigation,' so you'd best command this chess board pretty damn well or else we're all dead."

"Yeah, yeah," Harry muttered. He then said, "Daphne, you're the Queen. Black, you're the Bishop on the right-"

"Hey," Black objected, "I wanted to be the Queen."

"As you so delicately put it, _Black_ ," Harry ground out, "we don't have much time. And I'm the one commanding this board."

"I definitely don't think you're doing a decent job at it nonetheless," Black muttered.

Harry simply ignored her, putting Hermione as the left Bishop with Tracey and Blaise on the left and right knights (the latter two in that order). He got up on the King piece and started speaking. He had to make this rather fast, and Morgaine's childhood spent sewing wasn't helping.

 **-Many moves later-**

Harry found himself in a rather peculiar predicament. It was one that could easily mean an injury to his friends, which didn't bode well for him. He felt the familiar stone of worry and the sensation of frustration settle within the recesses of his mind. God, couldn't he just make a different choice?

Of course, he could. But that'd mean that he'd spend another, what? Five to ten moves setting the trap and springing said trap. He palmed his forehead, wiped a bit of sweat off, and opened his mouth to tell Tracey.

"Hey Tracey!" Harry shouted to get her attention. "I'm going to sacrifice your piece so that we can capture the King."

She simply nodded, a shadow being cast across her face. Was it worry or fear? Harry paid no attention as, a few seconds later, he told the chessboard the next move. Suddenly, he saw Tracey's wand come up as the sword was raised. Tracey shouted, _Molliare_! Brilliant. Absolutely fucking brilliant. She was thrown aside as her piece shattered. Harry was finishing the King off with one more move when Tracey stirred and got up, her wand in hand. The King toppled over, causing the door on the other side of the board to swing open with a loud creak that seemed to reverberate throughout the room. They all rushed towards Tracey, though Black was noticeably more…uncomfortable doing so. Tracey waved them off, saying that she was fine as she made towards the door.

Harry told her, just audible, "Good idea with the Cushioning Charm."

She gave him a warm smile and pushed Daphne away rather gently. Harry was then pulled by Black into a room that was empty, the Witch telling him that they should hurry for the third time. The room was deceptively empty, but Harry could feel a faint trace of magic in the room, a trace that he had encountered once already. Harry shoved Black to the ground and cast a Parseltongue shield specifically designed against arrows and crossbow bolts. It should certainly hold against a club.

And said club suddenly slammed against the shield, causing the others who hadn't come in the room to stay back. Black then said, as she got up, "Thanks." She then seemed to move her hand to cast a spell, but Harry was a step ahead of her.

Harry, who hadn't replied, took the shield down as the troll was recovering. He cast one of the fastest and deadliest spells he could think of, quickly taking aim. The spell was essentially a syllable and a series of rapid wand movements, not requiring much magic. It was also used to torture victims while rendering them immobile. It was a spell that Morgaine had seen and secretly learned in Walachia through the observance of a vampire/wizard half-breed named Vlad Tepes. It was a rather grim memory, even though she had been dead which was saying something. The spell was a rather guaranteed way to kill a person and was far more efficient that an Organ-Liquefying Curse. After all, it's efficiency coupled with the pain it induced was the main reason why it was such a favorite of Tepes.

It certainly did not disappoint Harry in the least. A spell the color of blood of blood came out of his wand. Small tendrils of magic swirled around the bolt of magic which spread as the troll or rather massive hulking piece of meat was hit. The creature howled an eerily familiar scream that made everyone's blood curdle. The troll was thrown against the wall of the rather massive room and violently convulsed. A hole slowly formed in its chest, blood seeping out as it grew and grew until Harry could stick his head in said hole. The skin ripped, muscle was shredded as the hole expanded. There were only a few twitches after a few minutes, Harry's modifications on the spell evidently hastening the effects of the spell.

Black looked at him, a glint in her eyes while the others looked at him in shock.

"Harry, how could you?!" Hermione cried out. "How could you torture it like that?"

Coldly, Harry answered, "You didn't have any qualms the first time." He _Scourgified_ the place so that the blood wouldn't seep into their clothes and so that the shock value could possibly lessen. After that, no one said anything, everyone else noting the danger that Harry posed to his opponents. No one their age should directly confront him.

Harry briskly walked through the door on the other side, opening it and noting that there was another door on the other side. Immediately, ignoring the seven potions in eccentric bottles on the table, he went over and tried to open the door. But before he could reach the door, a curtain of black flames appeared, causing Harry to immediately recoil.

Not wanting to waste any time, he cast a Flame-Freezing charm and stuck his littlest finger through. That was certainly a decision that he regretted, he stifled a yelp, thinking of the worse things he had felt. Quickly, he healed himself and, rather grudgingly, he went back to the table and asked for Daphne for the parchment. She gave it to him, saying something about the third bottle.

Harry didn't pay attention, he mind focusing on the fact that they had wasted far too much time. He should've done this alone, right? They were slow enough. Had he been braver, if he hadn't been such a coward, then he could've stopped Voldemort far sooner from attaining eternal life.

The parchment said,

 _"_ _Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind,_

 _Two of us will help you, whichever you would find,_

 _One among us seven will let you move ahead,_

 _Another will transport the drinker back instead,_

 _Two among our number hold only nettle wine,_

 _Three of us are killers, waiting hidden in line._

 _Choose, unless you wish to stay here for evermore,_

 _To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four:_

 _First, however slyly the poison tries to hide_

 _You will always find some on nettle wine's left side;_

 _Second, different are those who stand at either end,_

 _But if you would move onwards neither is your friend;_

 _Third, as you see clearly, all are different size,_

 _Neither dwarf nor giant holds death in their insides;_

 _Fourth, the second left and the second on the right_

 _Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight._ _"_

It took Harry a minute or two, but then he reached for the third bottle, suddenly processing what Daphne had said. He, pausing briefly, smiled sheepishly at her who, in turn, simply glared. He uncorked the bottle and started to drink when a thought barreled through Harry's mind. He'd have to explain the situation to the others. After all, there was just enough potion for two or three people.

He sighed, corking the bottle again and placing it on the table. The others behind him were talking, Hermione with Blaise, Tracey with Daphne. Black was waiting for him. Quickly making his decision, he then said, clearing his throat to get their attention, "Quirrel wants the Philosopher's Stone and has gone through these…obstacles. Black and I are supposed to help Dumbledore stop him-"

"What're you doing, Potter? Shut up!" Black hissed. Harry simply ignored her.

"And, according to this riddle, this potion," Harry held the minute bottle up, "is supposed to take whoever consumes it past the black flames. There's only enough for two or three people if we take a minuscule sip. The one that's supposed to take you past the purple flames, back to the other obstacles, this one," He picked up the seventh one to the right, "is enough for three or four people."

Black was glaring at him, obviously wanting him to shut up, while the others looked at each other. Daphne spoke up, "I'll go."

Hermione didn't object, probably not wanting to contest her. Blaise and Tracey nodded, knowing that of the others, Daphne was the best choice. After all, she was typically second to Harry in Dueling and in their classes. They were also close.

Or at least that was what Harry thought was going through their minds when no one objected to Daphne going. Black looked like she wanted to talk to Harry, but probably decided against it, knowing full well that time was of the essence.

Harry gave the potion for the black flames to Black first, then Daphne, then himself. He gave Hermione the potion for the purple flames and headed towards the door, taking his wand out. He passed through the flames, feeling only a slight tingling, and opened the door, Black and Daphne behind him.

The room he had just entered was large to say the least. It was fashioned in a hexagonal manner; the outer edges being raised and the center of the room being a good foot or two lower. There were stairs that came from all of the edges and provided a small ramp for one to walk down to the center of the room. Pillars were strategically placed around the room.

In the center of the room was a mirror, one that looked ludicrously familiar to Harry. Approaching the mirror, Harry gave a jolt of shock when he saw his mother and father. He could see himself hugging them, his mother, a flaming redhead, giving him a big kiss on the cheek and a hug. Harry could see the Dursleys hanging in the background as his father played games with him. He saw himself laughing, his eyes no longer old and weary, but fresh. He was not scarred by his life. He could see him smiling as he saw a girl with red hair and chocolate brown eyes drape her arms around him.

Oddly enough, Harry felt his heart being wrenched out, tears starting to form.

Suddenly, the image shifted so that he saw a blonde-haired girl with sparkling blue eyes kissing him on the cheek…wait, was that Daphne? She smiled mischievously at Harry, pulling away and slipping something into his pocket. Harry could feel something small, spherical slip into his pocket.

Harry's eyes grew wide. He realized what the mirror was. It was the Mirror of Erised. But he destroyed it. How? How was it still here? Momentarily dismissing this for whatever, Harry then slipped his hand into his pocket and took the object out, it had held the Philosopher's Stone.

Without warning, it came flying out of his hand, ropes suddenly biding Harry and laughter echoing throughout the room. It was a familiar laugh, a laugh that Harry remembered himself emitting. No! It was Voldemort. Whirling around, he saw Quirrell descending down the steps, evidently wishing to taunt Harry.

It would give the Wizard the façade that Harry was scared. He let his wand tremble a bit as he pointed it at Quirrel. He then noticed Daphne and Black incapacitated on the ground. He cursed himself for his stupidity and carelessness.

Harry then said, "Quirrell. So, it was you who tortured me in the forest."

The Wizard cackled again. "Of course, Potter! Who else other than poor, stuttering Q-Q-Quirrell? So brave, _Potter_? Amusing."

"B-but Dumbledore hired you!" Harry said, giving his voice a slight tinge of fear. "You shouldn't be here!"

"Ha!" Quirrell exclaimed. "The would never had suspected me, for my master had given me a plan that was foolproof. He was always there with me, hiding in plain sight. I watched you, Potter, growing each day. And so, as my master had commanded it, I was supposed to lie in wait, slowly letting him grow stronger and stronger so that he could _crush_ you. But now, thanks to you, he will grow far stronger than he could have in my body. He will use this stone to regain his life, defeating death. He is far greater than Merlin who had not conquered Death. He is more cunning than Salazar, he is more powerful than Dumbledore!"

Suddenly, his face grotesquely shifted so that the man that Harry had seen that night in the Forest appeared. "And here I am, Potter. The Mirror was such an elaborate defense. And it was such a _distraction_ , Potter. The goat's own test working against him, imagine! I do love the irony. Are you ready, my dear boy, for the things that I will do for you? The things that will cause you to beg and to scream, to cry for mercy, to make you wish for death?'

He looked at him, rather curiously, as if examining a specimen. Harry made no move to try and get free, knowing that he was currently under scrutiny. It certainly wasn't hard to come to that conclusion. Voldemort then reached out to grasp Harry by the chin, Harry suddenly screaming in pain.

It should also be noted that Voldemort was very, very theatric. Even Harry was surprised by the sudden, cliché speeches that Voldemort was giving him.

The smell of burning flesh suddenly hit Harry's nose, triggering memories of his friends and family dying due to hatred and prejudice. He saw himself fleeing, his lover sacrificing their life for him. And it struck a chord that numbed the pain. Only then did he realize that Voldemort was screaming as well, clutching his hand in shock.

Harry let his magic overtake the ropes that bound him, summoning his wand into his hand. He let his anger burst forth, casting an _Incarcerous_. Voldemort was caught off guard, being forced into a kneeling position. Harry smiled, coming up to Voldemort. He didn't pay any attention to the wand in his pocket.

It was only him and Voldemort, and oh how he wanted revenge for all the things wrong in his life. The Dursleys, his parents, his fucking title. He let his magic gather in his hands, bolstering his muscles and bone. He hit Voldemort directly in the face, relishing the solid sound of his fists. The smell of burning flesh hit his nose again, fanning his scorching nonexistent.

How dare he hurt them?! How dare he take everything from him?! Anger took over rational thinking, Harry's memories fanning his anger, letting it grow to monstrous sizes. Harry driving his fists into Riddle's face, taking pleasure as bones shattered with a _CRUNCH!_ He heard the Wizard scream, writhing and struggling like a trapped rat. Harry smiled as he continued to destroy Quirrell's body apart, not caring that he felt immense pain. All he wanted to do was make the man who had ruined his life feel his pain.

Suddenly, he stopped. Looking at the carnage on Quirrell's body. His face was barely recognizable, though the man was clearing breathing. There were parts of his face that seemed to be missing, burnt in fact. Bones were sticking out of his skin, the Wizard still somehow alive. Perhaps it was the unicorn's blood or the fact that Voldemort didn't die the first time. But Harry gave it no speculation, coming up with a brilliant idea. He held Quirrellmort's (which was a rather good name he'd thought of) head in his hands and proceeded to slowly crush. He felt the bones give way, the skin disintegrating. Harry was euphoric as the skull caved in. He then proceeded to work on the rest of the body, pressing against the torso and feeling the muscle and bone crumble to what seemed like dust.

When Harry felt nothing in his hands, his mind rebooted. He felt his anger dissipate as he saw whatever remained of Voldemort's body burn to a crisp, even the ash disappearing. Suddenly, something seemed to escape from the body, fleeing. What the bloody hell happened? That was the one question that he constantly repeated in his mind before, without his noticing, his vision turned black and he collapsed, feeling immense pain.

 **-Switching over to Albus-**

Dumbledore had felt spells fly within the room that the Stone was being held in. Immediately, he knew that Harry and his group of merry friends must have been able to retrieve the Philosopher's Stone. Flamel was giving off an air of annoyance at Dumbledore's insistence to have a copy of the Stone at the school. The Stone, Dumbledore had asked, would have been able to transmute things simply into leprechaun gold. That was it. But with Voldemort at hand, then the Stone would serve as an item of interest. Could Voldemort be there? A stone dropped in Dumbledore's stomach. Why hadn't he thought of that earlier? Immediately, he called Fawkes and _politely_ asked him to transport him to the chamber where the Stone should have been.

Dumbledore appeared right in front of the Mirror, seeing Harry, Daphne, and Black unconscious. He felt the residue of a presence he knew far too well. Voldemort had been here, his presence feeling as if he had been doused in oil and grease. It was a presence that completely disgusted him due to the Dark magic that stained him. Dumbledore cast several diagnostic spells, breathing a sigh of relief that they were simply unconscious. Harry had several fractures in his hands, but that was it. What had happened? Dumbledore cast a healing spell on Harry, knowing for certain that his bones would be set. All he would need was Skele-Gro.

Dumbledore surveyed the area around him, noticing that the copy of the Stone had been thrown onto a nearby step. He saw the remains of rope in two places, right in front of the Mirror and next to it. Harry was lying in front of the rope to the side, so he was interacting with Voldemort. Harry had his wand holstered, but a quick, surface _Priori Incantatem_ showed that he had indeed cast the Incarcerous. The same showed for Quirrell's wand.

Dumbledore mentally pieced together what had happened. And what must have happened. Dumbledore knelt next to Harry, feeling his heart break.

"Merlin, Harry," Dumbledore exclaimed, tears steadily rolling down his cheeks, "what have I done to you? What has an old man's foolish mistakes done to you?"

It took him a few minutes to compose himself. He felt older than ever when he stood up. All he wanted to do now was protect the young Wizard, but what could he do as the Headmaster? All he had done was share a few books, discuss things for a few minutes, and…that was it. What could he d—oh. It was staring him right in the face. He asked Fawkes to bring them to the Hospital Wing. Their bodies went up in flames, immediately disappearing. Dumbledore stretched his hand out, feeling Fawkes land on him. And with a blinding light, he was back in his office. He had to think.

 **-Where was Harry now?-**

Harry's eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the light that flooded a now familiar place. In the span of nearly two weeks, he'd been here at _least_ five times. God, how the bloody hell did he keep on getting hospitalized? He was a Slytherin after all. Self-preservation was in the job description.

But Harry paid no attention to that, groaning softly as he realized that every inch of his body was in pain. It certainly wasn't bad as getting beaten up then being starved, but it definitely hurt. Harry reached for his wand, feeling its presence in the drawer. He let it roll in between his fingers, relishing the sense of his magic sparking and flowing through his wand. It was a current of water flowing through a pipe, and the more that Harry practiced with his magic, meditated, the pipe only grew bigger. It was much like the Force in that sense.

But instead, the body could only hold so much magic. People often overexerted themselves, causing them to fall into what is commonly called the magical coma. The body was essentially repairing itself. Why was he thinking about this again?

Harry shook his head. It was still disorganized from his encounter with Voldemort. He lay back into his bed, waving his wand over himself. He muttered a few words and felt the pain lessen. Good. That meant that they were only minor sores. Give it an hour or two and he'd be better. Harry ran his fingers up and down his wand, feeling the symbols etched into it, as he closed his eyes. It was a soothing experience, simply holding his closest friend. He knew all of its secrets and it knew his.

He felt a smile grace his face, hearing the wand sing vibrantly. It was dancing in his hand, the magic delicately twirling like a ballerina. Absolutely fucking beautiful. Suddenly the curtains were drawn back and Harry's eyes snapped open, the smile dropping from his lips. He saw Madam Pomfrey carrying a tray of potions.

"Well, Mister Potter. This certainly does seem like your favorite place to be after school." Pomfrey said, smiling.

Harry gave her a sheepish grin. "Things certainly _do_ happen to me."

"It's almost as if trouble is after you, Harry," Pomfrey said, an odd nostalgic tone in her voice. "It's been two days and I have to say that you're looking extremely well. But you'll still have drink these and rest."

Harry complied, wanting to make sure that whatever happened between him and Voldemort didn't leave any side effects. The odd thing was that these potions had little to no taste, unlike before where they were gritty and repulsive. Harry suppressed his surprise and handed the empty bottles back to Pomfrey. She then said the standard 'stay in your bed and rest' drivel before leaving. Harry closed his eyes, placing his wand on the table next to him and let sleep wrap its cold, skeletal fingers around him, pulling him down into the depths of his dreams.

Slowly, he opened his eyes, hearing Hedwig hoot. The lamps were now burning brightly, the flames dancing happily. He carefully sat up, not wanting to strain his body, and reached out to fondle Hedwig's feathers. He felt her tiny heart beat vigorously, her eyes staring at him. She was concerned for him.

"Shh," Harry softly said to her, "I'm okay Hedwig. I'll be up and about soon."

He smiled at her, feeling the tension within her dissipate. She gave a series of soft hoots.

"Well, it was Quirrell. Apparently, he wanted the Stone. Eternal life and everything…" Harry's voice trailed off as he realized he didn't have the Stone. He heard Hedwig hoot several more times.

"Why're you laughing?" Harry asked confusedly, looking in the direction that she was looking. "Oh. Hi, Headmaster."

The wizard conjured a plush chair and sat down next to Harry. "Dumbledore, Harry. Call me Dumbledore."

Harry simply nodded.

"Are you okay?" The Headmaster's eyes were filled with concern.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"Good, good," he said, stroking his beard. "What, if I may ask, happened? Of course, you don't have to answer that what with you in bed, but perhaps it might help the both of us understand what happened a bit more."

Harry nodded again, thinking of what he was going to say. He had to be extremely careful, perhaps give a bit of information about his anger, but he'd have to keep Morgaine's information a secret. He opened his mouth and spoke about the first obstacle, about how Black sang that soft tune. Then he spoke of the Devil's Snare, saying that by then, he realized, it was a test. By the third task, Dumbledore's eyebrows rose as Harry talked about his use of the Summoning charm. The Fourth task was more interesting, Dumbledore closely watching Harry as he told the former of the need to sacrifice Tracey's piece. Dumbledore's eyes then sparkled when Harry told him of Tracey's plan. Harry then spoke of the next task, using a Reductor this time instead of a Banishing Charm as he told Dumbledore of the troll. Dumbledore's eyes managed to sparkle even more as Harry spoke of the potions and his need to give the others a basic explanation of what was happening, as well as Daphne's immediate and uncontested decision to accompany him.

By the time Harry spoke of the mirror, he told Dumbledore that he felt his anger take over. When prompted, he told Dumbledore that he hated Voldemort for killing his parents. The sparkling in the Headmaster's eyes dimmed as Harry said he wrapped his hands around Voldemort, the smell of burning flesh starting to become more prominent. Harry left out the bit about punching Voldemort and focused on the visual aspects. It was like Voldemort was parchment burning, his body being burnt to crisps. Harry then told Dumbledore that when the body was gone, he saw something fly out of the room before collapsing.

Dumbledore was quiet for a bit. Obviously, he was thinking. It was a rather awkward moment for the two of them. Then Dumbledore spoke.

"If I may ask, what did you see in the mirror?"

Harry looked at him, deciding whether or not Dumbledore wanted to exploit him. After all, it would've been easy for the Wizard to exploit him. Offer help to exploit Voldemort and Harry's reputation. But oddly enough, he effectively heard Morgaine telling Harry to trust Dumbledore. Taking a leap, Harry then said with his voice slightly shaking, "My parents. My mum, my dad, and a sister. And Daphne."

"Would you be willing to tell me any more details, or am I pressing too much?" Dumbledore asked, his eyes holding a sense of triumph. That was what Harry was afraid of, but he kept speaking.

"It's perfectly fine, Dumbledore. I was hugging my sister, playing games with Dad, and talking to mum. As for Daphne…all I'll say is that we were rather close."

Dumbledore had a smile on his face, saying, "Well, I guess that I was right. Daphne certainly did help you, albeit in a rather unique and unorthodox manner. Now as for the rest of the events. I hope that you have been dealing with the anger as it's a rather…potent manner. I speak from personal experience that you should learn how to properly handle anger. Of course, you won't be able to properly deal with it in the heat of the moment, but perhaps you'll be able to control it so that there will be little to no damage when you are trying to keep others safe. On a similar note, you should know that you can come to my office _most_ of the time. I guess that you don't necessarily need to have passwords for the gargoyle, but I'll give you the passwords.

"The burning flesh seemed to be triggered by your mother's protections. Your mother, as I said before, was able to cast some protections that were potent back then and are still rather potent. I'm not completely sure if there are any drawbacks for this form of protection, but it certainly would have had large repercussions on her had she not…perished. On a better note, that means that Voldemort cannot touch you in the literal sense, if he's still alive. For both of our sakes, I hope that he is not.

"As for Quirrell's body, I could only detect a faint magical signature." Harry was surprised. He had thought only he could do that. Perhaps it came with the perks of being one of the greatest Modern Wizards who weren't magical constructs. "I can rather safely say that Quirrell had begun to harbor Voldemort during his trip to Albania. At the time that I had reinstated him as the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, I had presumed that he had some unpleasant experiences with Vampires before being supposedly saved by a passing military patrol. It seems that this wasn't necessarily a possession, but was more like two souls within a body. And two souls within a body can have physical impacts on one's body, like how Quirrell shifted into the form of a different person." Dumbledore clapped his hands. "I do believe that this has been an enlightening experience for the two of us. You should recuperate from your encounter with one of the Evilest Wizards in living memory. And I suggest that you should search within yourself for anything related to Daphne. That could, just as well, be an enlightening experience."

Harry was confused by his consistent emphasis on his relationship, if one existed, with Daphne. But he pushed his thoughts aside as he saw Dumbledore slipping through the curtain. "Dumbledore?" The Wizard in question turned around. "What about the Mirror, Daphne, Bellatrix, and the Philosopher's Stone?"

Dumbledore's eyes sparkled again. Was that triggered by emotions? "The Mirror, my boy, is an exquisite piece of Wizardry. I had been able to just minorly replicate its effects onto a different, similar-looking mirror. I'm rather sorry that I lied to you at the moment in time. I was just…curious about how you would react. It's not every day that I see a Wizard your age with that level of maturity. Daphne and Miss Black have been coming in and out like your other friends. As for the Stone, it is a rather extraordinary piece of craftsmanship and shows magical prowess. What makes you think that Flamel would have wanted to truly part with it?"

But that means…"What?" Harry said, retreating back into his mind. Dumbledore had essentially told him that it was a fluke. "But then…what?"

Dumbledore had slipped out already, but Harry could hear him chuckling in the distance. That was…unexpected. Harry shook his head in amazement. His mind then turned to Voldemort. Could he truly be alive? He pushed that thought to the furthest edges of his mind, wanting to contemplate that later. He wanted to rest for now. Well rest he did, Morpheus ironically coming to attention and wrapping Harry in his own special blanket.

* * *

A/N: Hi. Thanks for reading. Review please. I'm actually liking the way that Black turned out. Sarcastic, biased...very fun to write.

You _might_ have noticed that Dumbledore really wants Harry and Daphne to interact. I'm not quite sure whether or not you noticed that. Why, one may ask? Reasons. It's a simple two words. The word 'whim,' and the word, 'trope.' If you want, PM me or include in a review what you think it is. Now I sound like a bloody Youtuber. Forget all that then.

Life is great. Writing is fun. A bit of (obvious) foreshadowing here, an emphasis on Harry's emotions there. The fact that Dumbledore isn't a bloody bad person is a tiny detail...The story's turning quite all right in my eyes. Not the best during the first ten chapters, but it's good enough. Though, this story doesn't feel like it's got a _plot!_ Sure, I have a basic beginning, somewhat determined middle, and end for the first few years, but I effectively writing it as I go. Might not be a bad thing...but it'll cause some problems in the long run, I guess. Pacing the story and stuff. Joy.

I love it when people say that this story's plot it good. I genuinely do. It makes me feel like I've made something properly coherent somehow.

Can't believe the past two chapters have been about 6,000 words long...It's a bloody milestone and shows me, at this age, that I'm obsessed.

 **Gime'SS:** You're welcome for the chapter, kind stranger.

 **Mckertis:** Sorry 'bout that. Added titles to the chapters and stuff like I said I would. And thanks for liking the story...makes me feel something warm. Whether it's good or bad, it's debatable, but people reading my story and liking it provokes an essentially indescribable feeling.

 **Hadrian Lannister** : I've PM'd you. For those sharing the same opinion, remember, I'm a (very) immature and illogical teen who characterizes himself as a madman at times. And I'm making this up as I go.

Oh, and side note...would you kindly detail exactly what you don't like? (This is addressed to the people who'll come up and write down that they don't like the story)

 **Minase 2928:** Thank you, reader.

 **Separ:** Merlin, thank you. Perhaps not unlearn things though, just...I don't know, manage not to kill Hermione. That's probably what you meant. Forgive me for being redundant. I _love_ Black when I'm both writing in fanfic and reading her in the canon books.

You all have a bloody fine day (night). Did I mention this: 12568760?

Cheers

HHS


	22. Complete and Utter Insanity

A/N: This is something that took me a while to write, being near **8,000** something words long. I'm sorry for the wait and hopefully, just _hopefully_ , I haven't botched this chapter. By Harry's nonexistent beard this was a bloody pain and pleasure writing.

* * *

Harry felt a sense of regret wash over him, dousing him in its waters. He felt disgust for himself, despite knowing full well the repercussions of the things that he would do in the future. _Those_ deaths would be necessary. He felt himself smile before feeling bile rise in his throat at his sudden need for their deaths. He had imagined them before, but now, having experienced the reality of killing, would he do it? Of course, he would.

But despite his fracturing mind, one that was caving in due to the memories, Voldemort, and overall worry about the future, he somehow had a firm grasp on reality that shouldn't have existed in him. He felt lost, knowing that he had just effectively killed a man.

Harry could feel the heart beating softly, the disgust growing with each tick of the clock. Despite feeling nothing from the death of Quirrelmort, there was this unease with himself, something was…wrong. Harry took a deep breath, hearing the words, "Are you okay?" from all of his friends…except Daphne. It was obvious that there certainly was something wrong with him, all he could do was say that yes, he was certainly okay. He continued this, even with the Headmaster, through his classes, even with Susan. Yet none of them tried to do anything about it.

All Harry could do was shut him in, keep the monster inside from coming out and killing without any remorse. It seemed like the only logical response for him. Hide it, bury it so that no one could find it because if they did, then they'd likely be dead. He'd also be thrown in Azkaban, only causing his internal insanity to grow to uncontrollable sizes. He'd be treated as an even greater freak, mocked in the public eye. All Harry could do was look back at Morgaine's memories.

He could remember the moment that Morgaine had killed her first person. It had been in a duel where she was protecting her niece, the daughter of the King. It had been a heated battle, as expected back then, to the death. They had exchanged a few words in anger, cast a few spells. It was something that had caused Morgaine to retreat into herself for quite some time, like Harry was doing. She was filled with hate and disgust for not only herself, but for the euphoria she felt when she did it. There was a thrill in killing, at least of her.

But unlike her, he was absolutely fucking calm about the entire situation. There was no euphoria, no second thoughts. It was as if nothing had happened, as if he hadn't taken a life. One of the most atrocious acts that a person could do short of cannibalism and defiling corpses was brushed off as nothing. As if it were just another chore! Harry couldn't stand feeling that way. Did he have a sense of morality? Certainly. But did he pay attention to that? Who knows.

He stumbled into his dorms and lay there on this bed, simply staring at the stone ceiling. He felt absolutely disgusted, but there was no regret, no hatred, no trepidation. He felt numb, detached, the only thing grounding him was his self-hatred. It had been like this for two or three weeks, perhaps it had been a month. He didn't know how long he'd been in this strange stupor.

He had simply gone to class, did the homework and that was it he wouldn't go to dinner. He wasn't the slightest bit hungry. . Susan didn't approach him for whatever reason, his most of his friends tried to help him, but their efforts were to no avail, and Harry didn't want to see Morgaine at the moment. Evidently, she respected those wishes as she didn't appear without any warning.

He was walking in the hallways, no longer running. His mind was pounding itself with disgust. He hated his indifference of the event, the way that he had just taken a life like _that!_ Other than that, his mind was falling deeper and deeper into a cycle of mind numbing boredom and self-hatred. After all, Voldemort was gone, his purpose in life was complete, nothing to else for him to do, right? It felt so…anticlimactic. There was nothing for him to learn, nothing to distract him. Not even his books could distract him.

Down the halls and towards the Slytherin dorms he went, when he felt the magic around him swell. It was very slight but he felt it, like a subtle change in room temperature that causes your feet to suddenly feel very cold. He quickly dodged to the left, pulling his wand out as he did so. He had several curses on the tip of his tongue, ready to both maim and incapacitate whoever had attacked him, but there was no one there. He couldn't detect any magical presence nor was there any magical residue. Odd. Most spells would normally allow him to track him back to the owner, albeit with much time and meditation, but still. This spell had its signature masked. He was dealing with either an assassin, hitman, or someone very, _very_ clever. Masking a person's signature was something that few people could do due to the complexities behind the ritual involved. Harry could and would do it once

He cast a _Homenum Revelio_ and there was…nothing. One thought was racing through his mind.

What the bloody hell had attacked him?

He decided that it was a spell that was intended to incapacitate him, considering the fact that the spell had a _very_ similar shape and color as a _Stupefy_ , so perhaps it was someone who'd like to drug him. He walked down the empty corridor, alert. He passed the common room and headed towards his dorm. It was empty again. Everyone else was off doing their own thing, Blaise likely studying for the next test and Malloy jacking off with Nott. But Harry didn't care. He cast a spell on his quill and let it run its course, dictating his words to it.

The teachers, if they knew, didn't care. Just as long as he managed to get his work done, they'd be happy. Each one of them knew exactly what had happened, each revealing their knowledge of the event in their own ways. Snape through his snide comments, McGonagall directly approaching him. Flitwick had given him a book on additional spells, saying that he'd need it while Pomona Sprout simply gave him a _Mimbulus Mimbletonia_. Neville Longbottom would get that very plant with a note later that day saying something about having a secret friend. After all, Harry paid close attention to the bullied Gryffindor. Professor Vector had given him several maps and a small present, a bit of chocolate and Sugar Quills.

But that was all unrelated as Harry, lying on the bed, simply stared at the ceiling, speaking his homework. He cancelled the charm when he was done and put it into his chest, holding it for Monday. The day tomorrow was Saturday. He sighed, filled with hatred for himself. He felt oil dripping down his side, dirt and grime sticking to his skin. He closed his eyes and let sleep wash over him. At least then, he'd be relaxed and carefree.

When he woke, he certainly wasn't in his bed. His hands were free, feeling the cold seep into his body. His head softly throbbed with as if from a hangover. He certainly remembered those mornings. The lights were dimmed, a figure standing at the far side of the room. Harry moved to get up, but instead, he found everything from the neck down immobile. A modified _Petrificus Totalus_.

After examining what had happened later, Harry decided that he had heard a loud, crisp, and resonating _CRACK!_ within his mind as it broke under the sheer internal stress it was dealing with. It was like a bone snapping, celery being broken. He found himself emitting a manic laugh and he couldn't bring him to care about how much he sounded like Voldemort. After all, it didn't matter. Might as well embrace the inevitable, right?

It was a chilling laugh, one that would bring men high on drugs down to earth and scare the battle hardened general. His eyes were suddenly alight with promises of destruction. His insanity had been loosed. It felt good, something was different in this monotonous world of his.

"So," Harry said into the empty classroom. The classroom was bare. It was simply the stone walls, the floor, and the figure off to one side. "What're you going to do to me? I killed you _twice,_ Riddle. What's more to do it again?" Harry was sneering, logical thinking having been eradicated due to the adrenaline rushing in his veins. He was suddenly ecstatic. Perhaps it was the rush of being bound, perhaps it was the change in the progression of events. The thing in his mind had taken control of him.

"Harry? Shut up," the figure commanded, in Daphne's voice. "We both know that there's something wrong."

Harry found himself laughing, her voice slowly grounding him, shaking the hold his insanity had over him. But he found himself asking " _Wrong,_ Daphne? Bloody wrong? Everything's perfect! I killed Voldemort?!" Harry continued to laugh as Daphne waved her wand and approached him. Lights appeared.

"Harry, please don't be like this. Please." She was vulnerable, her tone soft. It was a stark contrast to his harsh laughter. Harry found strength and shoved his insane self into a cage and locked it, letting it snarl and scream, its arms scrabbling for a grasp on him. Harry mentally distanced himself and the laughing stopped. It was far from easy, but Harry knew that it was necessary. He struggled to keep the cage locked, his mind being strained. He mentally screamed but it was subdued. He closed his eyes, the mental craze slowly subsiding.

Gods, how much more of this could he take. His chest briefly ached at the thought of the endless cycle. Would the cage break? Almost certainly. Almost. But certainly not today.

He calmed down, let Daphne wrap her arms around him. In a thick, raspy voice, he then said, "Okay."

She dispelled the charm and conjured a chair. Not a simple wooden chair, but a plush chair made of fur with wondrous engravings. Perhaps she was far more advanced than he thought. That was something that made him think.

"What's wrong?" Direct and to the point. She knew not to ask whether something was wrong, because it was obvious that there certainly was something wrong. He smiled warmly, his insanity still struggling against the time-tested bonds.

Then in a shaky voice, one that prevailed despite the steadiness of his mind, he said, "I've killed someone."

"Quirrell, right?" Daphne asked, receiving a nod. "How're you dealing with it?"

This was a particularly odd Daphne. Vulnerable yet obviously composed. Had she done this before? Or had she gone through this process enough times to know what to do? Harry mentally shrugged and let everything spill. After all, he'd have to explain a lot of stuff and it was best to start from the beginning. He spoke of his talks with Dumbledore, of Voldemort and their connection, the seizures, and everything else. He poured his heart out, mentioning the more insane side of himself. He didn't touch the Dursleys.

She nodded at the appropriate moments, digesting this information. When he stopped, she hugged him tightly. "Thank you, Harry. Thank you for telling me." It was sincere, striking a chord in Harry.

Harry returned the hug, feeling his spirits lift. Why was _this_ changing him? Had anyone else taken this particular approach, attempted to coax information out of him, he'd have incapacitated that person, Obliviated them, run away, or, more likely, all three.

It felt natural doing this for some particular reason. Was that why Dumbledore kept telling him to go Daphne? What was different about her specifically? What the bloody hell made her so different that even Morgaine had told him about her?

She pushed him away gently, dragging the chair next to his.

"I'd say, logically," Daphne said, her voice slightly shaking, "that he's not worth another thought. He was a shadow of himself, if the stories are true. It wasn't even a complete possession, you told me yourself. It was partial, V-Voldem-mort w-wasn't able to properly possess Quirrell. And anyways, it seemed like he _should_ be able to possess a creature of all sorts if he were that strong. Perhaps the unicorn blood had to do something with it…but still."

She hugged him again, both feeling a bit more awkward. Though, Harry inwardly smiled at the fact that Daphne said Riddle's name. Big step.

He then noticed something else. His disgust had magically diminished, being replaced by this odd sense of happiness. It wasn't gone, just smaller. With that information, a single question was suddenly running through his mind. What was happening?

"Okay," Harry said. "But it'll be with me my entire life, you know."

"All I want you not to do is clam up. We're gonna get through this. And you already know that you can share all sorts of things, well, _most things_ with us. I don't need to hear about you jacking off." Daphne said, her tone light and happy.

 _This_ could be considered a rather odd change for Harry considering the fact that Daphne was typically the one to clam up, though it was more discreet for her. She'd be far more sarcastic, still somehow managing to make friends even in such moods. She still managed to make those connections, laying the foundations for friendships with people outside of Slytherin, though evidently had a bit of trepidation for those in Gryffindor as someone would surely notice. But then again, what did he know? He'd only known her for a good three to four months which was far too short to get an accurate analysis of a person's personality.

Harry's thoughts returned to the present, finding himself asking, "Why'd you bring me here instead of pulling me aside?"

"Well," Daphne started, a small sheepish smile on her face, "I thought that you wouldn't respond in the same way."

"Did you enjoy seeing me go momentarily insane?" Harry asked, a similar smile on his face.

Daphne glared at him. "Yes, I did, Harry. I enjoyed listening to you talking about how _perfect_ the world was and how you'd kill _him_ again. I enjoyed the way that you had laughed, it warmed my heart."

His smile grew as he listened to her response. He felt a slight change in him, triggered by the way that she didn't treat him as broken. "Sorry for asking," was all that he had said.

He found himself lost in his thoughts, only coming back from them upon hearing Daphne then say, "It was scary to see you just suddenly shut down for no apparent reason, Harry. Merlin, I don't know what I'd have done if you just...became like me after _her_ death. It was like experiencing it all over again, but instead of my heartbreak, it was the disgust of both yourself and _him_ that I felt."

"What?" Harry asked quickly, wanting to know if his thoughts were leaking out. He had immediately forgotten everything about Voldemort. That was odd. Telepathic connection or was she a natural Legilimens? Could she be an Empath? Perhaps he was far too obvious?

But Harry immediately denied that last thought. He'd been as quiet as a rock for nearly the past month.

"I couldn't describe properly describe it, but the best description I can come up is 'a dull throb.' It was like the feeling after you've run for a long time. And for some reason, I felt as if there was oil in my mind, coating it in layers."

Harry nodded, noting the similarities between what he felt and what she was describing.

"Do you know anything?" Daphne asked hopefully.

Harry shook his head. There were so many of these damned questions, questions that surrounded Daphne. Instinctively, Harry knew that Morgaine wouldn't tell him. Perhaps it was due to Fate or whatever being controlled his life. It certainly would be nice to know.

 _I'm not telling,_ Morgaine sang. Could it be something that something was off about her?

Harry's mind suddenly snapped to attention, his body jerking which caused Daphne to blink in quick succession.

"What?" Daphne queried.

Harry could hear Morgaine laughing and he knew that she would suddenly appear. She did not disappoint, appearing off to the side of Harry and Daphne. Harry looked at her then at Daphne. The latter seemed to be frozen in time, her mouth frozen in the middle of a word. Harry couldn't describe how she looked. All he could feel was a slight twitch in a heart that he felt was cold.

"Harry," Morgaine said.

Harry in turn said, "Morgaine."

"I think that it's best if I fix that," she then said, nodding her head in Daphne's direction. She moved to wave her arm as Harry protested.

"Why is she here?" Daphne asked, time returning to her. There was no, 'who is this.' How interesting.

Morgaine laughed, the sound reaching the depths of Harry and slowly changed his mood. He knew what was happening. Her laughter resonated within him, seeming to bounce off of his mental walls. . They both knew it.

"Stop it," Harry said, steel in his voice.

She sighed. "It was worth a try. Well, anyways, you've got her to help. Far better than any help I could give you."

Daphne emitted a sigh of frustration. "Morgaine, why the bloody hell are you here? I thought that you were supposed to keep this a secret?"

Harry concealed his surprise. "You've seen her too?"

"How dim-witted can you get, Harry?" Daphne asked, exasperation evident in her tone. Harry inwardly smiled. It would be easier with her snide remarks, getting back in the loop of things. Why? He didn't know. It was one of those inexplicable things.

"Well, Harry," Morgaine said, "I didn't say anything about the fact that I'm not visiting other people, especially when they're so closely related to my heir." She smiled.

"Can you just tell us why the bloody hell we're connected just to save us the time wasted guessing?" Harry asked, keeping his annoyance at bay.

"She doesn't know, I literally can't tell you…" her voice trailed off. "All I'll say is that you've got to search a bit in your own family history, read up a bit, perhaps visit a vault. If I say anything more, someone's going to get _pretty_ mad. So, I'll just ask, how's the rehab?"

"W-Well, good," Daphne answered for him in a shaky voice for no particular reason.

"Obviously. I'll see you tomorrow, Daphne. Bye!" Morgaine waved her hand and Daphne stilled in mid protest. It was a chilling display of time manipulation and magic.

And unexpectedly, Morgaine's breath was heavy, massaging her face. She had tears in her eyes but her voice was steady.

"Harry, how're you?" she then asked, her voice more vulnerable.

"Good. Are you?" Harry's voice was laced with concern.

Morgaine let out a laugh that was all too familiar. It was one laced with pain, anger, and had a deranged edge to it. "For the time being? No, I'm not. I just talked to _him._ "

"Which one?" Harry asked, understanding that she was talking about either her enemies or her lovers. A bit awkward for him to say the least, but It was one of the smaller things he had to deal with, and anyways, not much of a problem there what with the other things that he had on his plate.

"Fucking _Lancelot_ ," Morgaine said, decades of hate being compressed into a single word. She seethed, her magic swelling up and filling the room. Harry reached out to touch her and she immediately jerked back, her magic falling under her control. "How did you know about who I was talking about?" She asked, confused by his sudden knowledge of her life.

"Because you gave me those memories?" Harry asked, confused as well.

"Oh yeah," Morgaine said, her voice calm and steady. A minute later as Harry stumbled under a wave of magic, panic was suddenly flitting across her face. "Shit!" She shouted, immediately getting up and heading towards Harry, energy surging through her body. She took her wand out, waving it with precision. She was aiming the wand at him, the manner she was waving it caused fear to take hold of him.

"Morgaine, wait!" Harry cried out, taking his own wand out. "Don't Obliviate me!"

"But the memories," she muttered. She repeated it louder. "It's changing you. I shouldn't have done that." In a much softer voice, "For fuck's sake le Fay, what were you bloody expecting?"

"Changing me?" Harry asked incredulously, understanding where she was getting at. He had briefly suspected it, but dismissed it. "So, the memories are changing my personality and mind, right?"

She simply nodded, her wand frozen in the air.

"Then I don't bloody care." Harry softly said. "It's a small sacrifice for the ability to not only destroy my enemies, but to help you, perhaps give you a bit of support." He had said that last part to play on her sympathies. After all, it had helped.

"You don't care?" Morgaine asked in a breathy, incredulous tone. "You don't bloody care, Harry? Do you think that I won't either? Do you want to go through all that pain just for a few trinkets and spells? And as for the support, what the hell do you think that you're going to do, talk with me? Remember the Mighty Tom Riddle? You fucking pulverized his body because of the memories that I gave you. Remember the sudden feeling of superiority and the insanity? That was me! I'd thought that the Sight was simply a side effect, but _no_. It just had to be a fucking warning for the fact that I've been slowly changing you, Harry, into me. Do you care now?"

"No, not at all." Harry answered. "You know why?"

"Enlighten me, Harry, enlighten me."

Harry pulled out his ace. "Because it's the closest I'll get to being able to connect with someone!" His voice rose quickly. "You could even say that we have a somewhat parent and child relationship. Do you think that I'd sacrifice that after being a fucking toy for the Dursleys to kick around and abuse? I haven't even seen my parents, Morgaine! At least you've seen yours. I'll be able to remember that affection you had for them and the love they had for you, even though it was just for a bit. Do you know how much that means to—mmph!"

Morgaine had hugged him tightly. It was a tight hug, one out of a number of emotions that Harry couldn't even begin to guess. His anger dissipated as she asked for him to forgive her. Harry returned the hug, the two of them coming to an agreement.

They pulled apart, no feeling of awkwardness between them. After all, they had a very similar set of memories, albeit one with a heavily edited set.

Love, motherly love, and pain dripped from her eyes as she said, "I can't believe I almost did that."

Harry laughed. "But you didn't, so that's the good thing. Better?"

Morgaine slowly nodded. "Just don't pay too much attention to my midnight escapades, Harry else I might have to Obliviate you…" she raised her wand threateningly before bursting out into laughter.

Laughter was good. It was the main thing that distracted her, distracted anyone from a (possible) devastating event. Harry joined in one the laughter feeling it rise from the depths of him. It _felt_ good, another change of pace from his monotonous life.

Of course, as the laughter died down, a thought struck Harry. "What kind of changes are you talking about?"

"Err..." Morgaine started, "You're likely going to end up with either my personality or a combination of mine and yours, you're likely going to have a number of my preferences, changes in the way you conduct yourself, and some of my talents may bleed over into yours. Nothing like being an Animagi but perhaps a _bit_ of skill in the Mental Arts and Transfiguration."

"Then why were you so concerned?" Harry queried, seeing as these are all minor things.

"I was concerned because I was changing the very thing that makes you, Harry. And I did so without your knowledge. You _didn't_ know at the time, Harry," she said, cutting his protest off. "That was my _second_ time seeing you. But since you're fine with it, I guess I'll just have to live with it."

Another thought came racing across Harry's mind. It was a single, somewhat unrelated and confused thought. "Morgaine, what did you tell Daphne?"

"What?" Morgaine asked before she emitted a noise of realization. "Oh yeah. Her. Well...things. I told her about the deal with Voldemort, the things about Parseltongue just before you brought her down into the Chamber, and other trivial, arbitrary things that may or may not help both of you in the future."

"Like?" Harry drawled.

Morgaine smiled. "Things the fact that she'd have to go into the room with the Stone for the sole reason of helping you, as I said, Parseltongue and its uses, spells like the one from."

Harry nodded, his eyes narrowed. He certainly didn't believe the fact that she simply told Daphne of 'trivial' things.

"Would you like me to swear it on my magic?" Morgaine asked.

 _Oh shit. She's serious_ , Harry said. Despite the fact that she was dead, she was, as she herself put it, 'one with magic.' If she violated that vow, then she's just a lost soul. "No!" Harry practically shouted.

"I hope that you aren't deaf, Harry..." Morgaine simply replied, putting her hand to her ear.

Harry sighed. "Not you too. I already have Black and Daphne on my case, I don't need you to do the same."

Morgaine didn't respond, her eyes staring at something. She then nodded to an invisible figure and a smile spread across her face, laughing as then processed what he said. It was an odd, delayed reaction. "A bit too late Harry. But now," her voice was happy, light and carefree, "let's go somewhere." She snapped her fingers and they both left the room with a rather dramatic swirl of fire.

The chamber being replaced by a lively place filled to the brim with large figures. These creatures were enchantingly beautiful, men and women alike. Each had a pair of mesmerizing chocolate eyes and, from mere seconds, Harry could hear their melodic voices in the air. Their skin ranged from those of a white daisy to lavenders to the leaves on a tree. Each had intricate carvings in their skin, some being inches deep. They all moved with an otherworldly grace, a grace that could not be replicated had Harry tried. Some had long, slim wings that protruded from their backs. Others, the ones that stood at the entrance of the massive dome that they were currently in had no wings, but instead at spindly legs coming out of their backs.

The place they were in was lavishly decorated, fitting for royalty. Gold seemed like a standard building material, no matter how unconventional and soft the metal was in the structures he saw. There were curtains of flowers, clothes of fine silk, and headdresses that had been intricately crafted.

"The Faeries," Harry softly said, a torrent of memories coming to the surface as if having been restricted by a charm of sorts.

"I bet that you're suddenly remembering all of it?" Morgaine asked, smiling at him.

Harry mutely nodded, remembering all that he knew of the mischievous fun creatures. Only five centuries ago, they found sanctuary with the Vampires and were prepared to go to war for their land with the humans and the Magicals, but it was only by the intervention of the Merlin that saved Wizards and Witches from being turned into mindless slaves for things like sex, labor, and entertainment. They had come to a compromise, the Magicals being able to persuade the Muggle government to create natural reserves. The Fae had taken that idea further, getting some Magicals to Obliviate some Muggles as the winged creatures bent and created unwitting agents for the creation of their world.

Morgaine sighed, drunken on nostalgia and her memories. "A person is easily lost in such a world where the magic bends the very laws of nature due to its potency."

"Why're we here exactly?" Harry queried, wanting to know why he had been put in such an otherworldly and lively place.

She smiled. She murmured something far too softly for him to hear before raising her voice, saying, "Because you're supposed to be here."

She reached for a small vial from what seemed like thin air. She handed it to Harry, who, without much suspicion, drank it. It was a bit sour, though mostly sweet, leaving a sickeningly sweet taste in the mouth. Harry felt his body slowly collapse, fold, and unfold. The sight of the Faeries around him turned into a single, tall and elegant woman who was dressed in a masterfully crafted dress. It seemed to be made of ever changing and colorful thread that hugged her figure. Had Harry been another simply member of the male population, he'd have been reduced to a useless, slobbering slab of bone and meat.

Her allure was far more powerful than that of any Veela, drawing one's eyes to hers. She opened her lips and spoke in melodic tones.

"Well, here is the mighty Harry Potter," she said, smiling sweetly at him. "Welcome to my personal chambers…" she gestured around her "…and this is reserved for only the highest of any species. You, though, are a fantastic exception, though I certainly will not get into _that_ particular segment of history. Have you any particular idea as to why you are here?"

She looked at him as he gazed around a room that he had seen hundreds of times, yet it was still a sight to behold. Morgaine had been frequently invited here, being of faerie bloodline and being a friend to the Queen. But the Queen, likely, didn't know of Morgaine's transfer of memories.

"No, my Queen," Harry said respectfully, keeping his eyes away from hers. He after a few mere seconds of being in her presence, he forced his body into a position he only remembered going in to. He had his palms up, magically forming a symbol on his palms. It was a rather simple symbol, being a pair of wings with a sword vertically running through the middle. He had both knees on the floor and his head bowed. It was proper etiquette, Harry knowing that he'd violated these rules by nearly a minute of simply gazing about.

After all, it was hard not to take in the awe of the sheer number of exquisite furniture and craftsmanship in the room. Everything had magical enchantments about them, Harry not even having to concentrate to feel the tonnes of magic bleeding from the aforementioned enchantments. There were paintings and sculptures, nude and clothed, that rather literally grabbed one's attention.

Harry heard a tinkling laugh that he become familiar with, effectively hearing himself emit long ago. Harry felt a light tap on her shoulder and stood, looking back at the person who had just come into the room unannounced. It was Morgaine, the back of her robes had suddenly disappeared, revealing a space on her back on which two massive tattooed wings were engraved on. They were elaborate and obviously painted there by one who was skilled. Oddly enough, there was no recollection of such tattoos appearing in Harry's edited memories.

"You certainly didn't have to do _that_ , Harry," Morgaine chuckled softly. "That's only in public."

"What?" Harry asked, daring to look at the Queen. She was smiling, mirth in her eyes.

"I thought that you knew that, or did you forget those centuries that I spent with her?" Moraine asked, her eyes sparkling with a warmth that was absent from Dumbledore's.

Harry's eyes widened in understanding, but still protested, saying, "But I haven't met her yet."

"But she knows many things about you, Harry. About your activities at Hogwarts and your adventures, and the memories. She's in touch with-" Morgaine explained before being cut off.

"-the Elves and with you." Harry finished for her. "I know. We have nearly the same exact set of memories for the past two millennia."

"Well, child," The Queen suddenly said, "perhaps not. The things that Morgaine here had kept from you are rather life changing things that you'll certainly discover at a later age."

"Let's save that for some other time, 'Tania. Harry's better off not know and anticipating these things…" Morgaine suddenly said rather loudly.

"It's Titania in front of him, Morgaine. And child," she then said, letting her gaze shift from a rather solid Morgaine to harry, "do you know why she's brought you here?"

Harry simply shook his head. "No, my Queen."

Morgaine snorted softly, hiding a smile behind her hand. The Queen glared at her. "And as for you, child, you shall also call me Titania. None of this formal nonsense in my personal chambers, though it cannot be far too informal, _Morgaine_. You are here because as the Merlin, you're effectively being placed in the charge of every sentient Magical creature of Britain. With those duties, you are supposed to determine the futures of species. For many, creatures such as we, the Fae, and the Vampires have been able to properly keep ourselves self-sustained and out harm of the Muggles as well as foreign dangers."

Harry felt himself slowly shrink, his heart slowly dying under the realization that he would have to face mind numbing responsibilities that he mostly knew about.

"Normally, all the political edging, diplomatic missions and visits, and everything else are bestowed upon you during your mid-life _when_ there's the presence of the King, though that's more toned down with the lack of one at the current moment. What with the need for the protection of both the internal and external balance, I could easily say that there are some things that require necessary changes. The first being the far-reaching impacts of the wretched Tom Riddle. Although, I'm not the one to consult for the exact manners as to go about accomplishing such an act. You should go to Morgaine, considering the fact that as of right now, she is the best mentor for you, dead, or not."

"So why exactly did she bring me here?" Harry asked, Titania.

She simply shrugged, the jewelry on her dress clinking. Looking at Morgaine, she then said, "She gave me the things to say, not the reasons behind them. After all, you _are_ technically under her teaching albeit under a more personal level."

Harry looked at Morgaine. She then said, "It's because there is something that I'd like to show you. See you later, Titania."

"Goodbye, Morgaine. I am rather eager for your next visit..." The Queen replied with a small smile, causing Harry to suddenly feel uncomfortable. Morgaine emitted a soft chuckle, obviously feeling his discomfort. Morgaine led Harry away from the Queen, across elaborate halls, and into a rather small room.

There was a small basin of water in the center of the room. It was different from a Pensieve as the latter was a bowl that would be filled with a white liquid but here, there was actual water or some sort of clear fluid. The basin was made of bronze, strange engravings all over it. It was something that struck a chord in Harry's mind, it was oddly familiar though it managed to elude recognition.

"You've seen this before." It wasn't a question instead of a statement, though Harry nodded nonetheless. "Do you know what it is, Harry?" Morgaine then asked, looking oddly at Harry.

He simply shook his head.

"So, it's an object that's on the edge of you mind?" She asked, oddly focused on the pursuit of his knowledge of this object. He nodded. "Good. That means that I've done good, editing my memories. Well, this object is something that can only be described as painful. Sadly, it's a necessary part of every Merlin's..." She searched for a word, "...coming of age ceremony."

"Coming of age?" Harry asked, knowing that he certainly wasn't sixteen nor eighteen.

"Well, not like that," Morgaine then said. "It's like an initiation for those who will become the Merlin as well as those who aim to become a member of Avalon. I went through this, my father went through this, one of my sons, and most of the people that I knew. This is one of the few things that has been derived from my species which is accessible by all species. This is effectively tempering your body against the natural elements. It is not foolproof though and it not a complete augmentation of your body. This is more like a diluted version of something that our people had once called the Woodland Trials which I certainly will _not_ get into more detail due to the sheer number of horrific stories that accompany them.

"All you'll have to do is drink the liquid in the basin. The effects of the liquid will immediately come after finishing it. I would mention the mortality rate due to the fact that this is derived from the Trials, but you can get through this."

"Thank you for the vote of confidence," Harry said, his tone sarcastic. He noticed that Morgaine was leaning in the doorway. He approached the basin, his hands starting to shake as he anticipated the pain that would come with drinking the liquid. He looked at Morgaine who was currently casting wards all over the doorway. Fun.

Trusting her, he drank that liquid. It was much like water, odorless and lacking taste. But unlike water, magic was abundant in it. Harry swallowed the liquid, feeling a slight tingling sensation.

Standing there, he closed his eyes and lay on the floor, preparing his mind. He would like to avoid falling. He felt the pain surge, stressing his mental restraints and safeguards. It was like a battering ram, painful, sudden, and strong. Repeatedly, his mind was hammered by pain that seemed to seep out of every pore of his body. It was even worse that the Cruciatus and the encounter with Voldemort, the very fiber of his body being torn apart and ravaged into shreds. But unlike those two instances, this was quick. Perhaps a minute had gone by before the pain subsided. Harry had tears streaming down his face, but managed to get up. It wasn't something he was unaccustomed to. His body would heal quickly.

Unsteadily he walked towards Morgaine who took him by the shoulders and teleported him into a bed. She was sitting in a chair, an expression of worry on her face. Harry told her not to worry and immediately felt a bit drowsy, just a bit. It was odd that she said nothing in return. He felt _so_ tired. Perhaps he'd just have a bit of a rest, just a small nap.

Then something urged him to stay awake. But he ignored it, the long arms of Sleep taking him, tugging him into their depths.

Time Passes

Harry groggily stirred. He felt far better than he did when he fell asleep. He felt like he was resting on clouds. And suddenly, something struck him down, the pain driving a spear through his mind. He felt himself scream and immediately he fell unconscious.

The Mental War Continues

Harry could feel himself crying, his mind retreating from the merciless onslaught of pain. It was unbearable. He let out a guttural scream. Was this what the troll had felt as he killed it? He sobbed uncontrollably. He tasted the salt in his tears, felt his body seizing up. Sweat soaked his sheets. Only faintly could he feel a trace of magic wrapping him. He passed out due to the sheer exhaustion.

Pain is Mesmerizing

He gasped like a drowning man getting access to fresh, unadulterated oxygen. The pain was coming in waves, he realized. The room around him was dark, black. But he could still make out Morgaine. Yet, despite his instincts, something compelled him not to cry out to her. He closed his eyes, the change in light being unnoticeable. He readied his mind against the next wave. It was the only thing he could do.

Comas and Seizures

Harry bolted upright. He didn't aim to guess how much time he had spent in that cycle of pain. Something was different about him, but this time, it was noticeable. He felt slightly taller, just a bit more physically fit. But those were just assumptions. The room around him was dark, but he reached for his wand and cast a _Lumos._ The room was like the Queen's though it was far less lavish. He cast a _Lumos Duo_ multiple times so that he could properly see without sustaining a spell.

He looked at himself, in the mirror, wanting to see if there were any noticeable changes. And...there certainly were, to his surprise. He _was_ taller. His face looked far more like Morgaine's but too much. Higher cheekbones, paler skin. Under his robes, his muscles were more defined. His scars still remained, but they had faded.

Something was also nagging him at the back of his mind. It was Morgaine's ability to change her appearance. Make her look more formidable. It was something that most, if not everyone from Avalon could do. He closed his eyes and let magic trickle down his face much like water. It was cold, freezing almost. When he opened his eyes, he stumbled back in shock. He looked far taller than he should be, far more intimidating and older. He did what could only be described as 'sucking' his magic back with his eyes closed, making him shiver due to the sudden warmth. He then opened his eyes and lo behold, he was Harry once more.

"So," Morgaine then said with a light tone, "you've messed with the glamour, checked out your muscles, and looked at your face." Harry turned. "Anything else that you'd like to know?"

"Yes, actually," Harry then answered. "Why in the damned bloody world did that hurt so much?"

"Ah," Morgaine said, a sheepish smile gracing her face. "Would you like the more or less world shattering explanation for that?"

"More, of course."

"Well, you see," Morgaine started, "that was a liquid designed to effectively reconstruct a person's body and alter their magic so that they could accommodate the roles of the Merlin or as a member of Avalon far more effectively. For people who weren't like me, being pure magic that is, there was always the possibility that they'd die due to the fact that they're bodies are being deconstructed and put together using magic in a short amount of time. Those who _are_ like me don't die and don't experience as much pain. You okay?"

"'Am I okay?'" Harry repeated incredulously. "I just got my body taken apart and put back together-"

"So, it's a viable question." Morgaine interrupted.

"Yes, Morgaine, yes." Harry said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Morgaine sighed. "It's not as if I had a choice, Harry. It was a necessary act else the Queen would be annoyed; the people over here would be angry for me breaking millennia of tradition and so forth. And I'm rather sorry for the warning, but a friend of mine, the same one who had brought into your world, told me that it was of the utmost importance. I have no bloody clue as to what they are thinking, but just be ready in the future. Something's going to happen."

"Couldn't you at least have given me a warning? Just a few days ago, I went through torture by burning a Wizard with my _bare hands_." Harry then said, causing him to remember something. "Were Dumbledore's assumptions correct?"

Morgaine thought for a moment. "Well, for the most part. In another world, he'd be right, but he believes the wrong thing. He believes that there are these things called Horcruxes that Voldemort created. Riddle probably knows about these things, but in this day and age, it is impossible to create these wonderful creations."

"Wonderful?" Harry asked.

"Wonderful in terms of the magical complexity in creating a Horcrux. As for everything else, it's disgusting and for most, simply hearing the process of how to make one is already revolting." She answered, an odd, nostalgic edge in her tone. Did she know anyone who had made one? Or did she make one herself? Harry wasn't quick to question or criticize Morgaine, but her reputation as a Dark Witch perhaps wasn't restricted to the spells and basic rituals that she knew.

"And how would someone go about making a Horcrux?" Harry asked, knowing that it was his only logical response.

Morgaine seemed hesitant to tell him, but some side of her seemed to win the internal battle. "It is absolutely _impossible,_ Harry, so don't even try to go about making one. The ritual itself is symbolic of life and death, if you're curious. First is life. Get an object. It could be anything. That includes a pencil, a jug, a _diary_." She put an odd emphasis on the word diary, but Harry made little note of that. "After that, then you'll have to dip the object in the blood of a witch and a wizard, their lineage doesn't matter by the way. Then one will have to drink that blood and cut the genitalia of a Muggle man off. Eat that raw, obtain any form of sperm, lather the object in the sperm and then cast a spell that you certainly shouldn't know about. The spell details the dividing of the person's soul due to the birth, death, and rebirth of that person using magic that doesn't exist these days. The next part is death. All you'll have to do is kill a person. Thin, fat, fatherly, nerdy, magically dark, magically light. Doesn't matter either."

"Couldn't have there been a less...cannibalistic edge to it?" Harry asked, thinking that all of this was a bit excessive.

"It's splitting your soul. There's no other act as morally damned as necrophilia and cannibalism." Morgaine said, her tone telling him that this was something that he should have known. After thinking for a bit, he did know. It was something that Morgaine had learned from her travels to the Incans and Mayans.

Harry nodded, suddenly realizing that he had spent a significant amount of time in this place. "How long have I stayed here?"

"Three days." Morgaine immediately answered, evidently expecting the question.

"And how have they dealt with my sudden disappearance?" Harry asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Nothing. Time is still frozen." Morgaine was smirking.

"Frozen? How?" Harry was surprised even though he knew that Morgaine had the ability to somehow alter time and space. He didn't know that she had _that_ much power...

"Courtesy of a friend of mine. She's says that this needed to happen due to things in the future." Morgaine's smirk became an all-out smile.

Harry sighed. "Of course. Then how long am I going to stay here?"

"Not for much longer, perhaps another minute. I'll have to leave and so will you." Morgaine paused. "When should we meet or should I keep it a surprise?"

"A surprise." Harry said.

Morgaine smiled. "You know me best. Surprises are my favorites." She stretched her hand out. "Ready?"

"Certainly." Harry said, reaching out and taking her hand. They vanished, not even dust being affected the slightest bit by their disappearance. When the scene changed, Harry was back in the room with Daphne, only Daphne. He steeled himself as the memories, the murder, the _bloody isolation_ would batter his mind again.

Without warning, a single question was shouted from the highest reaches of his mind.

How long could he keep doing this?

Harry let out a brief burst of mental laughter. Not long without any change, and he was certain of that.

* * *

A/N: So, Morgaine brought Harry to the Faeries after attempting to Obliviate him. Fu. I should tell you that Morgaine technically has a reputation as a Dark Witch, not evil though. It's canon with HP lore, some legends and poems, and stories. In addition to this, it should be noted that she studied things from Vlad the Impaler.

The Queen is much of a minor character, I'll tell you. Nothing much planned for her other than just telling Harry what to do in this chapter. Faeires are particularly curious in terms of Harry. There was one hint and it was a similar concept from the Artemis Fowl series. Obvious by all means as I'm not skilled in the art of beating around the bush and using precise wording.

Another thing is that killing is a traumatising event and that thinking and actually committing it is different. People around the world war against all sorts of things being thrown into PTSD (no offense meant) due to playing gory games. That's my take. See you in the next two or three weeks.

I won't be going overboard with Harry's insanity. It'll only be evident in times of extreme mental stress.

Oh, and I should state that the ritual may have been a bit too much, but hear me out. Necrophilia and cannibalism are the two most deplorable acts a person can commit. Obviously, **I'm not condoning nor purposefully encouraging the acts in this story.** With that out of the way, the two aforementioned acts are the two most common subjects discussed in the creation of a Horcrux, as far as I've looked. Due to the overarching need for murder, I've shoved it into some 'birth, death, rebirth' stuff into the lore. It makes sense, in my opinion, what with your soul going through immense stress. You have been born with an entire soul, you're killing a part of your soul with magic which allows you to separate it (with magic) and it's reborn in the object using magic.

And I do not mean to offend anyone. For those who are, I suggest that you PM me and we'll sort it out from there.

Before I provide my answers to the reviews, I'll say that any suggestions as to where to take the story are welcome and will be heavily considered. And, if you want, go ahead and send a PM as to the ways that I could find Daphne and Harry being paired. I feel as if I'd been too obvious in the way that I had decided on at the beginning, but if the idea seems intriguing, then I'll try to make it work. Also, if you do have suggestions as to how I could improve my writing, then go ahead and tell me.

For those interested, there's a poll (not sure if that's the right decision or not, but I'm experimenting).

 **god of all:** Much appreciated and I will see this through the end, even if I take a break for months and, Merlin forbid, years.

 **Gime'SS:** Your welcome.

 **Who Are You What Do You Want:** We  all want better wands. Your welcome.

Oh and I've been able to get going with another story that I'll continue unlike the other one. That's what contributed to the lengthened break. This is for the few who have been reading it. Thanks for reading again.

Cheers

HHS


	23. An Underpowered Bracelet plus Pain

A/N: After some deliberation, I'm releasing this chapter. It's setting me back, but I'd like to express a few more depravities of the Dursleys. I'd have made this longer, but I had a brief argument with my mind after it refused to cooperate. Hopefully, my next few chapters will be a bit more...substantial than this one. Sorry for the filler.

* * *

He was cold, hunger gnawing at his stomach. He had tears running down his face. The room was dark, their voices muffled by the walls. He knew what they were talking about. They were talking about the things that they'd buy for the Christmas party. It was nearly midnight, something within him telling him the time. It was the source of his eternal misery, but it was something that he couldn't get himself to suppress out of the pain that suddenly sparked because of said suppression.

The stench of shit and vomit reached his nose, but he didn't care. He had been desensitized to his disgust when he felt a lump of shit, to the sticky clothes, to the salty crust on his skin. He'd have to clean them when he finally got out from this fucking room, throw his waste in the forest _discreetly_ , and clean his room with bleach until the next time he'd be locked in here. His muscles were atrophying and body turning into a pile of bones. But he couldn't get himself to care anymore about his body, about his current state of mind. He didn't want to do anything in this world, he just wanted to get out of here. He wanted freedom from this infernal prison, from the people that were holding him hostage. Or perhaps, he'd just succumb to his internal desires.

He felt the thing inside him bubble, banging against the cage that he had put it in. It was what they had called his 'freakishness,' the accursed thing that had made his body sting from the belt, burn from the stove, bruise from the fists. He just managed to stifle it, feeling it burn within his body. He felt his eyes sting, trying to refrain from squeezing those diamonds out, ones that the Dursleys thought were so valuable.

His teachers thought that he was simply and completely dumb, stupid as a nail in his foot. Thank God for his fast healing. He wouldn't know what he'd do. He heard their muffled discussion, talking about how many guests would come, how much money it'd take to buy all the decorations and the cake. He heard them talking about things like how great Dudley was, the progress the little pig was making with his addition and subtraction. They talked about things like finances and work, about how so and so did this and that. Didn't they care? Did anyone in this accursed world care?

Harry sobbed. No one noticed him, the teachers for some magical reason, the students only when they needed their homework done. He'd made himself a small fortune, but he still felt hollow inside, something missing.

The voices stopped, fear gripping Harry by the heart. He knew how to keep his calm, subdue his remarks, how to keep his composure. It had been drilled into him each time they'd brought the paddle against his backside, the sessions managing to take as long as several hours with different punishments.

The door to his accursed room opened, the sudden light blinding him. It was Vernon, his 'Uncle.'

"Get on out here, boy, before your stench makes me give you something rather special." It was said without pity, an expecting tone attached to it. It was the voice of a teacher demanding a student for something that they'd stolen, a voice with a murderous tone to it. Soft, gritty, and harsh.

 _Show no fear,_ Harry mentally told himself. The statement echoed throughout his mind.

"Yes, sir." Harry said, has voice shaking only slightly.

"Clean your fucking room out," the Bull bellowed, steam coming from his nostrils. "And clean this house up as well. Finish before dinner and if not, we're going to have some fun tonight."

Harry felt a stone of dread being shoved down his throat and chills come down his sides. He didn't plead, whine, nor did he protest.

His surroundings shifted fluidly into a harshly lit bathroom. He hadn't been able to clean the entirety of the home, just a speck of dirt in the bathroom from his accursed Cousin. The Pig had purposefully grabbed a ball of dirt and just threw it against the bathroom floor, running off into his large bedroom. Just then, as he was cleaning, the food ready on the table, his Uncle had called for dinner. Of course, his Uncle had thrown him forcibly against the wall, causing him to softly groan. In turn, the largest Dursley emitted a soft laugh, speaking of the horrors that lay for Harry.

The scene shifted again, glimpses of what his Uncle did flitting by.

Harry was hyperventilating, pain searing his flesh. It was one of the worst beatings he'd had, and he'd certainly had plenty of them. His body hurt all over, seeming to throb with one pulse. His head ached, splitting under the duress placed upon it by his loving Uncle. His muscles were painfully seizing up in this nightly ritual. In the morning, his freakishness would have healed himself of the bruises, split skin, and minor scratches, but the scars, both internal and external, would remain.

He heard the redheaded woman scream, the ghastly man laugh, the skeletal man weep. He remembered their laughter, resonating deep inside his nine-year-old self. He remembered his legs buckling underneath his Uncles weight, his body burn as he was harshly punished. He felt disgusting, the sweat and oil sticking to his body. Spit, tears, and blood gushed down his body, making a revolting mixture of fluid that pooled around him. Harry lived with Pain, after all, why shouldn't he? He didn't attempt to restrict Him. Why cancel the inevitable anyways?

Pleasant Memories in Dreams

Harry, the Merlin of Britain, screamed. He curled up into a fetal position in his bed, tears starting to form. He let himself go, emitting piercing screams. He felt a someone sit on his bed, causing him to immediately snap up. He forced his mind into an intangible container that could barely hold it. He shuddered as he remembered first shoving his emotion down.

He could barely remember those moments. The times when his Uncle had beaten him without remorse, his laughs echoing in that dark, horrid basement that smelled of his sweat and blood. He whimpered each time he thought about the unspeakable things his Uncle had done to him. It was one of the worst punishments he had experienced. Pain had been his worst Enemy during those days, but now, _now_ …Harry mentally cackled, a smile spreading on his face. The sudden change in attitude would spook grown Wizards.

He unconsciously pushed his disgust down. _That_ was something that had been able to become far more bearable with Daphne. It'd been a week since she'd brought him into the room and just a few days ago, she'd learned of the things that he knew, immediately asking him to teach her several things. He agreed, seeing that he owed her.

Suddenly, Harry's thoughts returned to the present, causing him to then ask, "What d'you want?"

She hushed him, "I'm so sorry for doing this, Harry. Sleep." Her voice was soft and melodic. Harry struggled against it, feeling his mind quickly become heavy. He felt his thoughts become sluggish, his mind slowly shutting down.

He only managed to ask one question. It wasn't with hatred, anger, nor any other negative emotion.

"Why?"

He fell into a magic induced coma, one that Morgaine knew would last a good eight hours, doing him all sorts of wonders. She hadn't wanted to do it, this was one those things that she believed was necessary for a parent to do. Take away the pain, yet still let them grow, right?

 _Gods_ , Morgaine thought. _Am I making the right call? If she could only give me a damned glimpse into the future!_

Her heart pounded in her chest as she felt him go to sleep. _All-Powerful,_ she mentally scoffed. If only he knew. She could do many things, but not directly control his future. She knew some things but could only prepare him for them. Those were the rules she felt, instinctively knew, instead of being outright told them. Much like an Unbreakable Vow.

The coma would slightly and positively boost his mood for a bit of time, allowing him to heal faster what with his contact with Daphne. It wasn't enough to permanently change him, but instead it was like medication that Humans were using for their mentally ill. But there, it was for the underlying reason of happiness. That was wrong. Morgaine just wanted to get him to heal, for his mind to get better. She wouldn't take away his depression, his sadness, and not even his pain. She wasn't obsessed with happiness, not like the Humans. What she was doing was like administering medicine to the sick, giving them antibodies to help them get better.

She was worried that she'd be interfering too much by giving him an object, something that they both fondly remembered. It was a band of snakes, one that their mother, Igraine, had worn and given her.

It was a family heirloom. Just that. It wasn't some special trinket, something that would allow Harry to do things like rip cities out of the ground, turn him into a ludicrous animal. No, it was a bauble, nothing magical about other than the fact that this object could be enchanted. It _was_ pure gold after all, the only difference from other ordinary gold trinkets would be that magic strengthened it.

The only thing that the bracelet would do for him would give him several good memories, and these were good ones. These would be able to distract him for a good bit of time, remind him that there's more to life.

Mentally sighing, Morgaine gently placed it on Harry's bed, knowing that he'd wake in several hours, school effectively over. All she needed to do was go to Daphne. Hopefully, Harry would heal. Hopefully. She sighed and snapped her fingers, vanishing in a swirl of wind.

Hours Later

Harry woke up groggily. He felt better and he knew why. He was slightly annoyed by the fact that Morgaine had managed cause him to sleep. Not at her, though, but at himself. He should've seen it a mile away. Fucking hell.

But he couldn't bring himself to become far too mad at her, knowing that she cared for him and as odd as he thought it was, something bubbled within him. The first time that someone actually did something personal to take care of him. His abduction didn't count. He felt his breath shudder as he closed his eyes momentarily, taking a deep breath in.

He grabbed his wand, loving the way that it hummed to life. He cast a _Tempus_ , promptly swearing. Every class was over, the last period ending at around 4:00 pm which was 30 minutes ago. He hurriedly got up and was about to leave his bed when he a glint of gold caught his eye. It was a bracelet. He let out an incredulous laugh. He couldn't imagine the things that Morgaine had gone through to get him this. It felt the same, physically, and magically. It was a complex piece of craftsmanship, something that likely either cost a shit ton of money or she was giving him the actual heirloom. Damn. He felt a smile on his face, casting several charms on it. He could remember the anticipation, the joy at receiving this from a distant mother, Igraine. He slipped it onto his arm, relishing the way that it seemed to sing at the touch of his magic. A family heirloom, one that was solely connected from Morgaine's grandfather all the way down to him.

His smiled became even wider as the memories started to flood his mind. These were ones that were buried under centuries of pain and suffering. He could remember the midnight romps, the children smiling, and, most importantly, Morgaine's parents.

He pulled his robe over it when the door to his dorms suddenly burst open. He immediately wiped the smile off his face. It was Professor Snape.

"Potter! What happened today?" Professor Snape asked, a look of concern instead of anger on his face.

Harry said, shakily, "I went to sleep, the best way for me to deal with what happened."

Professor Snape looked at him sharply. "Potter, if you're lying to me…"

"No, Professor. I'm not," Harry quickly affirmed his statement.

"Well then, I expect that you come to class on Monday, else you will certainly have detention with me, and I can say with the utmost certainty that it will not be pleasant for either of us." The Professor was sentimental? Huh. Harry was confused. Normally, he wouldn't get a break like that, and he certainly didn't believe that the Professor believed him. He sent a small thanks to whatever supernatural being had given him grace.

Harry grabbed his bag and headed towards Charms. He had to get his work, the only thing that'd keep him alive.

Some Time Later

Harry was walking through the halls, today's homework, and notes in his bag ready for Monday, when he was pulled into an empty classroom. This has been happening far too recently.

He looked at his captor, his wand already out. It was Black. Harry relaxed and moved about a foot or two away from her.

"The bloody hell, Black! What d'you want?" Harry asked.

Black replied with a question, asking, "Where were you today? We had several bloody tests tod-"

"Yeah, I know," Harry cut her off. "Dumb to the things happening around me."

"Good then, cause I managed to get Dumbledore to bring me to Grimmauld Place." Black said, getting to the point, caring about the fact that Harry still had to .

Grimmauld Place. Those were two words he hadn't heard in a while. Perhaps it was a hazy memory from when he was a child, from when his parents were still alive. Harry suppressed that emotion, thinking rationally. "Is that a Manor, park, school…" Harry let the question hang in the air, his voice trailing off.

"It was my home, and because you saved my bloody life coupled with the Vow, I'm letting you come along." She had this tone in her voice, reminding Harry much of the way that McGonagall looked at him Susan. He could detect a faint hint of nostalgia and longing.

"Ooh, such a _big_ deal, Black. What do I get out of it?" Harry asked, taking a familiar route.

"What do you get out of this?" Black asked incredulously, a glint in her eyes telling him that he would like what she was going to say. "My family is hundreds if not thousands of years old. Don't you think that there'd be an artifact in our Library that you'd find interesting?"

Harry smiled internally, keeping it from showing. Visually, he nodded, saying, "Ok, when're we leaving?"

"We can go whenever we want, just as long as we manage to leave today. As far as I know, all we need is to tell Dumbledore and we'll just go to home."

A strange way that she said it, speaking as if it were both their homes. Harry imperceptibly shuddered as the implications and the emotions settled in. He was still fragile from earlier. Nothing too much.

Harry nodded in response to her. "Okay. When do you want to leave?"

Black bit her lip, making her seem extremely attractive. "Right now."

"So, let's get this straight," Harry started, "you just told me that we're going God knows where, to a place that's probably been abandoned cause you have no living relatives and no other family can take it. And we're leaving _right now_? Why'd you tell me right now?"

"Because of whatever's been going on with you, no offense." Black immediately answered.

"None taken."

"I didn't want to bother you and anyways, I just learned about this yesterday."

Harry nodded. Logical. Anyways, he hadn't been available for the past day. "So, are we going to Dumbledore?"

Black nodded. She then said, "Let's go."

Mentally, Harry shrugged. He wanted to go to Sicarius, but he could always push that aside for another day or two.

He followed Black down the halls and to Dumbledore, this odd buoyancy about him. He felt lighter, slightly more carefree. What exactly had Morgaine done? She hadn't taken the pain away, he was sure of it, but instead his nap seemed to have done something to his mind. It was as if there had been someone had reinforced his mind, adding extra beam to his mental room to prevent the ceiling from collapsing. What kind of magic was this? Was it something that Morgaine had taken out of his memories or was it something that one of her friends had given her?

Harry's thoughts were broken as they turned the corner and the gargoyle guarding Dumbledore's office seemed to growl at him, as if _Harry_ were dangerous. He blinked his eyes in surprise and it was back to normal. Perplexed, he moved closer and started to place his hands on its head.

"Potter," Blacks voice cut through the silence of the castle, "what in Merlin's name are you doing?"

Harry let his magic pool into his hands and expelled it into the gargoyle. Nothing was wrong, just the standard charms for a basic guardian of an area. It was imbued with Hogwarts' magic, but nothing else. Odd. "Hmm?" Harry said, pulling his hands away and turned towards her. "Oh, just checking something out. And you don't need to use the password."

He placed his hands back on the gargoyle and closed his eyes, feeling for the mechanism, the magical switch. When he felt it, he 'flicked' it, much like a light switch, causing the gargoyle to suddenly rumble and move. Harry stepped back as the gargoyle moved to the side and looked at Black.

"How'd you do that?" she asked incredulously, trying to determine exactly what he did.

Harry smiled. It was the best answer to anything. "Magic, Black. It's called magic."

She rolled her eyes and headed up the stairs. "Just shut up and come on."

Harry laughed a true, genuine laugh. They walked up the stairs and Harry could feel the walls closing on in him again, as if it were trying to squeeze the air out of him. What was happening? They reached the stairs after an eternity of climbing. Harry breathed a sigh of relief causing Black to look oddly at him. Thankfully, she said nothing.

She rapped her knuckles sharply on the door, Dumbledore calling her in. Harry followed her. The office was clean, though now, there were massive stacks of books around Dumbledore's desk. Harry didn't manage to get a close look now, but they were likely related to Black.

"Oh, Harry! What a pleasant surprise," Dumbledore then said, causing Harry to look at him incredulously. "What? You don't show up on my wards anymore, you can have a check if you'd like…"

"What?" Harry asked, surprised. Did Morgaine have something to do with this, or was it the bracelet? He didn't remember any Concealing Charms being placed on it.

Dumbledore nodded, waving his rather odd wand this way and that, creating a complex maze of magical lines. "Yes, see?"

Harry could see the way that the ward was layered, the number enchantments and the incantations involved, something a Wizard could tell from the number of intricacies involved in the way the lines were weaved together. It was using a massive amount of magic, Hogwarts' probably. You could tell that by the number of lines that were used as well as the height of the structure. He tried to find the individual threads of each student, knowing that it was standard practice in detection wards, managing to see ones connected to Daphne and Blaise, but he couldn't find his. It didn't detect his magic because it had change dramatically.

"Huh," was all that Harry decided to say, knowing full well that it wouldn't do any harm to him if Dumbledore knew that he was versed in the art of wards.

"Any ideas why?" Dumbledore then said, a glint in his eye.

Harry thought for a moment, Black oddly remaining silent. "Perhaps it could be because of a slight change in my magic, perhaps caused by the way that I age and stuff…"

"Interesting," was all that Dumbledore said in response. The Headmaster then said with a smile, "It's nice to see you up and about, Harry."

Harry awkwardly nodded as Dumbledore then said, "Well, I presume that you, Miss Black, would like to bring Harry to Grimmauld Place, correct?"

"Yes," Black said curtly.

"Well then," the Wizened Wizard said, "would you like me to accompany you or someone else?"

"Someone else Headmaster, no offense," Black answered.

Dumbledore nodded. "Then who would you like to bring?"

"Nymphadora Tonks." Black immediately said.

Dumbledore seemed to be shocked, blinking twice in rapid succession. "Miss Tonks, you say…I believe that she is your sister's daughter?"

"Yeah."

He nodded slowly, "I'll see if her mentor, Auror Moody will allow her to accompany you. I believe that you should leave and come back in perhaps, 30 minutes. _Accio!_ "

He summoned the Floo Powder into his hand and stood up.

Black then said, "Let's go."

Harry let her bring him down the stairs. At the bottom she then said, "Could I see the Library?"

"You don't know where it is, Black? I thought in your two years of being here that you'd know where a place like the Library would be," Harry said with a straight face.

"Oh, fuck off, Potter," Black said, punching his arm with a small flash of something in her eyes. "You know what I meant."

"You think you can run down the length of the school in just ten minutes?" Harry asked, eyebrow raised.

Bellatrix sighed. "I'm not a bloody idiot. We went from the Slytherin Dungeons to the second floor in the span of just five minutes. _Using the pipes_. Can't we just use the pipes?"

"Dammit," Harry muttered and sighed loudly. "Yeah, give me a sec."

He muttered a Revealing Spell in Parseltongue. There was an entrance just a few meters away. He walked over, knowing that Black was following. He muttered, ' _Open'_ using Parseltongue.

"Ladies first," Harry said, gesturing.

Black looked at him. "I don't trust you."

"Why? I've done nothing other than open it." Harry asked innocently, knowing full well that this was a short chute. The Revealing spell had told him so.

Black looked at him, holding his eyes and trying to determine whether or not he was trustworthy. She nodded. She put on foot in the chute and sat down. "How long is this?"

"Not far too long," Harry answered honestly. After all, long was subjective term. "Ready?"

"Yeah."

"Count of three or are you just going to go?" Harry asked, desperately hoping that she would choose the former option. Things were returning to normal, the first visible change being that he was more humorous. Was he like this ever since his abduction or was this a result of earlier? He didn't know.

"See ya," Black said, pushing off and not bothering to answer his question. She'd known what he was going to do, probably from Daphne.

* * *

A/N: Black is bringing Potter to Grimmauld Place. What'll happen there? I have several ideas. Oh, and Tonks is coming along. Why? It involves time travel. I've already told you the reason, haven't I?

The memories associated with the bracelet may or may not be disclosed.

Some might say that the dream at the beginning is a bit unnecessary, but I'm keeping it in there for two particular reasons. To further show how depraved the Dursleys are is the first. The second is to give Harry a reason for the breakdown. I may be slightly over doing these breakdowns but at least they're not all over the place. Fun. I'd say that in the future I'll refrain from making him do this again. It's starting to become this boring routine and...that's not good when you're writing, now is it?

Sorry for the lack of content in this chapter. I've been...busy. The next chapter will be up in the next two weeks, _hopefully_ , and it'll _hopefully_ be longer.

 **Vi38:** Thanks.

 **setokayba2n** : Well, I have some things prepared. I've been browsing r/nosleep for some inspiration. Maybe, just _maybe_ , I'll be able to make it satisfying for you.

 **NoOneInParticular17:** Cheers and have fun reading other fanfics.

 **Ha:** Ooh. I'd like to say that if you're reading this, I _am_ immature and childish, just fitting into the skin of a nearly 14 year old.

The good and bad doubtlessly exist, but what I'm trying to say here is that there is no proper definition of those two terms. In the Witcher, there are morally ambiguous choices that you make (the bloody brilliant video games, not the books if you need clarification). One of the earlier choices ( **Spoilers, I guess** ) is saving the orphans that the local 'gods' or crones are holding by releasing their enemy or killing said enemy. If you kill it, then the 'gods' (crones) kill the group of orphans, but the village still stays in peace, no one else is greatly impacted. If you spare the enemy and release it, then it goes and takes the orphans as well as causing a series of events that leads to a village's leader's suicide as well as the deformation and eventual death of said leader's wife. Is there a good and bad choice in this situation?

The words good and bad can be thrown around carelessly. It was bad the America decided to nuke Japan. But it was also good as it ultimately helped end the W.W. which saved many lives. It's also bad as it showed the world the effects of nuclear weapons, creating a fear in America as the Soviets then developed their own nuclear warheads. The final one caused many to live in terror for a significant number of years. Was the nuking good and bad? Similarly, was the destruction of the Death Star good or bad? Good as it allowed the Empire to fall, releasing the people from a tyrannical rule. Bad because it, in real life, would've led to the collapse of an economy as the central government would be thrown into anarchy, the economy following suit. The descriptions of whether something is good or bad is affected by a person's perspective. That's also why 'the end justifies a means,' is still debated. Technically.

Similarly, it seemed like a good decision for the Mayans to sacrifice and consume humans. Wrong (bad) in our day, right (good) in their day.

As for the last two reviews from you (meant to be said in a friendly tone), the Jedi didn't really delve into the more violent force things that they grouped under the "Dark Side." From my memory, no one (other than Anakin, but we all know how that turned out-botched his loyalties and died) used Force Lightning, Choke, and things like that.

And yes, there are inherently _bad_ spells on paper, but the use of  some of them, I think, can be justified in certain situations. The Killing Curse for swift and painful execution, the painless execution part being why the guillotine was used for such a long time. But then, I'm not a history buff, so I'm likely wrong. Crucio, I have to admit, really doesn't have an ethically good intent. My two cents.

Oh and if it brings you any comfort, I'll be slightly changing Harry's argument and give a heads up to future readers. There _are_ flaws in his argument when you put it that way. He, and I, _are..._ young.

-Argument Over-

Happy reading, have a bloody good day, and that's all I have to say...in terms of saying goodbye.

Cheers

HHS


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